Book ^^irk^^ 




K Am W A c 



EOTHEN, 



OR 

TRACES OF TRAVEL 



BROUGHT HOME 



FROM THE EAST. 



n^d; »)cI3 T£ Koi fi\iov avaroXas lirouero rriv hdov. 

Herod, vii., 58. 



:Neb) 22tritfon. 



NEW- YORK: 
GEORGE P. PUTNAM, 155 BROADWAY. 
1849. 



48e66e 



) 

; 
) 
i 

CONTENTS 



PA6B 

Prefa.ce ... , , . V 

Chap I. Over the Border .... . 1 

II. Journey from Belgrade to Constantinople 11 

III. Constantinople .... 23 

IV. The Troad . : 31 

V. Infidel Smyrna 37 

VI. Greek Mariners ... ... 47 

VII. Cyprus 55 

VIII. Lady Hester Stanhope 62 

IX. The Sanctuary . . . • , , 84 

X. The Monks of the Holy Land . • . . 87 

XI. From Nazareth to Tiberias .... 93 
XII. My First Bivouac . . . . , . .97 

XIII. The Dead Sea 104 

XIV. The Black Tents ... . . 110 

XV. Passage of the Jordan ..... 113 

XVI. Terra Santa 118 

XVII. The Desert 133 

XVIIL Cairo and the Plague 154 

XIX. The Pyramids 176 

XX. The Sphynx 179 

XXI. Cairo to Suez 181 

XXII. Suez .188 

XXIII. Suez to Gaza . , .... 193 

XXIV. Gaza to Nablous , 199 

XXV. Mariam , , 203 

XXVI. The Prophet Damoor 211 

XXVII. Damascus 215 

XXVIII Pass of the Lebanon 222 

XXIX Surprise or Satalieh 226 



PREFACE 



ADDRESSED BY 

THE AUTHOR TO ONE OF HIS FRIENDS. 

When you first entertained the idea of travelling in the 
East, you asked me to send you an outline of the tour 
which I had made, in order that you might the better be 
able to choose a route for yourself. In answer to this re- 
quest, I gave you a large French map, on which the course 
of my journeys had been carefully marked ; but I did not 
conceal from myself, that this was rather a dry mode for a 
man to adopt, when he wished to impart the results of his 
experience to a dear and intimate friend. Now, long be- 
fore the period of your planning an Oriental tour, I had 
intended to write some account of my Eastern Travels. 
I had, indeed, begun the task, and had failed ; I h ad. begun 
it a second time, and failing again, had abandoned my at- 
tempt with a sensation of utter distaste. I was unable to 
speak out, anrJ chiefly, I think, for this reason — that I knew 
not to whom i was speaking. It might be you, or, perhaps, 
our Lady of Bitterness^ who would read my story ; or it 
might be some member of the Royal Statistical Socie y, 
and how on earth was I to write in a way that would do 
for all three ? 

Well— your request for a sketch of my tour suggested 
to me the idea of com.plying with your wish by a revival 
of my twice abandoned attempt. I tried, and the pleasure 
and confidence which I felt in speaking to you, soon made 
my task so easy, and evea amusing, that after a wnile 



vi 



PREFACE. 



(though not in time for your tour), I completed the scrawl 
from which this book was originally printed. 

The very feeling, however, which enabled me to write 
thus freely, prevented me from robing my thoughts in that 
grave and decorous style which I should have maintained if 
I had professed to lecture the public. Whilst I feigned to 
myself that you, and you only, were listening, I could not 
by possibility speak very solemnly. Heaven forbid that 1 
should talk to my own genial friend, as though he were a 
great and enlightened Community, or any other respectable 
Aggregate ! 

Yet I well understood that the mere fact of my professing 
to speak to you rather than to the public generally could 
not perfectly excuse me for printing a narrative too roughly 
worded, and accordingly, in revis"ng the proof sheets, I 
have struck out those phrases which seemed to be less fit 
for a published volume than for intimate conversation. It 
is hardly to be expected, however, that correction of this 
kind should be perfectly complete, or that the almost bois- 
terous tone in which many parts of the book were origi- 
nally written should be thoroughly subdued. I venture 
therefore, to ask, that the familiarity of language still pos- 
sibly apparent in the work, may be laid to the account of 
our delightful intimacy, rather than to any presumptuous 
motive ; I feel, as you know, much too timidly — too dis- 
tantly, and too respectfully, towards the Public to be capa- 
ble of seeking to put mjyself on terms of easy fellowship 
with strange and casual readers. 

It is right to forewarn people (and I have tried to do this 
as well as I can, by my studiously unpromising title-page*) 

* "E^then " is, I hope, alimost the only hard word to be found in the 
book ; it is written in Greek iiCjQ&v^ — (Attice with an as] irated e instead of 



PREFACE. 



vii 



that the book is quite superficial in its character. I have 
endeavored to discard from it all valuable matter derived 
from the works of others, and it appears to me that my 
efforts in this direction have been attended with great suc- 
cess ; I beLeve I may truly acknowledge, that from all de- 
tails of geographical discovery, or antiquarian research — 
from all display of " sound learning, and religious know- 
ledge" — from all historical and scientific illustrations — from 
all useful statistics — from all political disquisitions — and 
from all good moral reflections, the volume is thoroughly 
free. 

My excuse for the book is its truth ; you and I know a 
man fond of hazarding elaborate jokes, who, whenever a 
story of his happens not to go down as wit, will evade the 
awkwardness of the failure, by bravely maintaining that 
all he has said is pure fact. I can honestly take this decent, 
though humble mode of escape. My narrative is not 
merely righteously exact in matters of fact (w4iere fact is 
in question), but it is true in this larger sense — it conveys — 
not those impressions which ought to have been produced 
upon any " well constituted mind,'' but those which were 
really and truly received at the time of his rambles, by a 
headstrong, and not very amiable traveller, whose preju- 
dices in favor of other people's notions were then exceed* 
ingly shght. As I have felt, so I have written ; and the 
result is, that there will often be found in my narrative a 
jarring discord between the associations properly belonging 
to interesting sites, and the Lone in which I speak of them. 
This seemingly perverse mode of treating the subject is 
forced upon me by my plao of adhering to sentimental 

the Tj.) — and signifies, 'from the early dawn," — "from the East." — Bonn 
Lex., 4th edition. 



xiii 



PREFACE. 



truth, and really does not result from any impertinent wish 
to teaze or trifle with readers. I ought, for instance, to 
have felt as strongly in Judea, as in Galilee, but it was not 
so in fact ; the religious sentiment (born in solitude) which 
had heated my brain in the Sanctuary of Nazareth was 
rudely chilled at the foot of Zion, by disenchanting scenes, 
and this change is accordingly disclosed by the perfectl}. 
worldly tone in which I speak of Jerusalem and Beth- 
lehem. 

My notion of dwelling precisely upon thos-e matters 
which happened to interest me, and upon none other, 
would of course be intolerable in a regular book of travels. 
If I had been passing through countries not previously 
explored, it would have been sadly perverse to withhold 
careful description of admirable objects, merely because 
my own feelings of interest in them may have happened to 
flag; but where the countries which one visits have been 
thoroughly and ably described, and even artistically illus- 
trated by others, one is fully at liberty to say as little 
(though not quite so much) as one chooses. Now a travel- 
ler is a creature not always looking at sights — he remem- 
bers (how often !) the happy laad of his birth — he has, too, 
his moments of humble enthusiasm about fire and food — 
about shade and drink ; and if he gives to these feelings 
anything like the prominence which really belonged to 
them at the time of his travelling, he will not seem a very 
good teacher : once having determined to write the sheer 
truth concerning the things which chiefly have interested 
him, he must and he will, sing a sadly long strain about 
Self; he will talk for whole pages together about his 
bivouac fire, and ruin the Ruins of Baalbec with eight of 
ten cold lines. 



PREFACE 



ix 



But it seems to me that the egotism of a traveller, how- 
ever incessant — however shameless and obtrusive, musl still 
convey some true ideas of the country through which he 
has passed. His very selfishness — his habit of referring 
the whole external world to his ov/n sensations, compels 
him, as it were, in his writings, to observe the laws of per- 
spective ; — he tells you of objects, not as he knows them to 
be, but as they seemed to him. The people and the things 
that most concern him personally, hov/ever mean and in- 
significant, take large proportions in his picture, because 
they stand so near to him. He shows you his Dragomen, 
and the gaunt features of his Arabs — his tent — his kneeling 
camels — his baggage strewed upon the sand ; — but the 
proper wonders of the land — the cities — the mighty ruins 
and monuments of bygone ages he throws back faintly in 
the distance. It is thus that he felt, and thus he strives to 
repeat the scenes of the Elder World. You may listen to 
him for ever without learning much in the way of statis- 
tics ; but perhaps if you bear with him long enough, you 
may find yourself slowly and slightly impressed with the 
reahties of eastern Travel. 

My scheme of refusing to dwell upon matters which 
failed to interest my own feelings, has been departed from 
in one instance — namely, in my detail of the late Lady 
Hester Stanhope's conversation on supernatural topics ; the 
truth is, that I have been much questioned on this subject, 
and I thought that my best plan would be to write down 
at once all that I could ever have to say concerning the 
personage whose career has excited so much curiosity 
amongst Englishwomen. The result is, that my account 
of the lady goes to a length which is not justified either by 



X 



PREFACE 



the importance of the subject, or by the extent to which it 
interested the narrator. 

You will see that I constantly speak of " my People," 
my Party" " my Arabs/' and so on, using terms which 
might possibly seem to imply that I moved about with a 
pompous retinue. This of course was not the case. I 
travelled with the simplicity proper to my station, as one 
of the industrious class, who was not flying from his coun- 
try because of ennui, but was strengthening his will, and 
tempering the metal of his nature for that life of toil and 
confl-ct in which he is now engaged. But an Englishman 
journeying in the East, must necessarily have with him 
Dragomen capable of interpreting the Oriental language ; 
the absence of wheeled-carriages obliges him to use seve- 
ral beasts of burthen for his baggage, as well as for him- 
self and his attendants ; the owners of the horses or cam- 
els, with their slaves or servants, fall in as part of his train, 
and altogether the cavalcade becomes rather numerous, 
without, however, occasioning any proportionate increase 
of expense. When a traveller speaks of all these followers 
in niass, he calls them his " people," or his " troop," or his 
party," without intending to make you believe that he is 
therefore a Sovereign Prince. 

You will see that I sometimes follow the custom of the 
Scots in describing my fellow-countrymen by the names of 
their paternal homes. 

Of course all these explanations are meant for casual 
readers. To you, without one syllable of excuse or depre- 
cation, and in all the confidence of a friendship that never 
yet was clouded, I give th's long-promised volume, and add 
but one sudden " Good-by !" for 1 dare not stand greeting 
you here. 



E O T H E N. 



CHAPTER I. 

Over the Border. 

At Semlin I still was encompassed by the scenes, and the 
sounds of familiar life ; the din of a busy world still vexed and 
cheered me ; the unveiled faces of women still shone in the light 
of day. Yet, whenever I chose to look southward, 1 saw the 
Ottoman's fortress — austere, and darkly impending over the vale 
of the Danube — historic Belgrade. I had come, as it were, to 
the end of this wheel-going Europe, and now my eyes would see 
the Splendor and Havoc of the East. 

The two frontier towns are less than a cannon-shot distant^ 
and yet their people hold no communion. The Hungarian on 
the North, and the Turk and Servian on the southern side of 
the Save, are as much asunder as though there were fifty broad 
provinces that lay in the path between them. Of the men that 
bustled around me in the streets of Semlin, there was not, per- 
haps, one who had ever gone down to look upon the stranger 
race which dwells under the walls of that opposite castle. It 
is the Plague, and the dread of the Plague, which divide the 
one people from the other. All coming and going stands for- 
bidden by the terrors of the yellow flag. If you dare to break 
the laws of the quarantine, you will be tried with military 
haste ; the court will scream out your sentence to you from a 
tribunal some fifty yards off ; the priest, instead of gently whis 
pering to you the sweet hopes of religion, will console you a 
2 



2 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. I 



duelling distance, and after that you will find yourself carefully 
shot, and carelessly buried in the ground of the Lazaretto. 

When all was in order for our departure, we walked down to 
the precincts of the Quarantine Establishment, and here awaited 
us a compromised"* officer of the Austrian Government, who 
lives in a state of perpetual excommunication. The boats, with 
their ''compromised" rowers, were also in readiness. 

After coming in contact with any creature or thing belonging 
to the Ottoman Empire, it would be impossible for us to return 
to the Austrian territory without undergoing an imprisonment 
of fourteen days in the odious Lazaretto ; we felt, therefore, 
that before we committed ourselves, it was highly important to 
take care that none of the arrangements necessary for the jour- 
ney had been forgotten, and in our anxiety to avoid such a mis- 
fortune, we managed the work of departure from Semlin with 
nearly as much solemnity as if we had been departing this life* 
Some obliging persons from whom we had received civilities 
during our short stay in the place, came down to say their fare- 
well at the river's side ; and now, as we stood with them at the 
distance of three or four yards from the ''compromised" officer, 
they asked if we were perfectly certain that we had wound up 
all our affairs in Christendom, and whether we had no parting 
requests to make. We repeated the caution to our servants, and 
took anxious thought lest by any possibility we might be cut off 
from some cherished object of affection : — were they quite sure 
that there was no faithful portmanteau — no patient and long- 
suffering carpet bag — no fragrant dressing-case with its gold- 
compelling letters of credit from which we might be parting for 
ever ? No — all these our loved ones lay safely stowed in the 
boat, and we were ready to follow them to the ends of the earth. 
Now, therefore, we shook hands with our Semlin friends, who 
immediately retreated for three or four paces, so as to leave 
us in the centre of a space between them and the " compro- 
mised " officer ; the latter then advanced, and asking once more 

* A " compromised " person is one who has been in contact with people 
or tnings supposed to be capable of conveying infection. As a general rule 
the Wiiole Ottoman empire lies constantly under this terrible ban The 
*' yellow flag " is the ensign of the Quarantine establishment 



C«AP I.] 



OVER THE BORDER. 



3 



if we had done with the civilized world, held forth his hand — I 
met it with mine, and there was an end to Christendom for many 
a day to come. 

We soon neared the southern bank of the river, but no sounds 
came down from the blank walls above, and there was no living 
thing that we could yet see, except one great hovering bird of 
the vulture race, flying low, and intent, and wheeling round and 
round over the Pest-accused city. 

But presently there issued from the postern, a group of hu- 
man beings, — beings with immortal souls, and possibly some 
reasoning faculties, but to me the grand point was this, that they 
had real, substantial, and incontrovertible turbans ; they made 
for the point towards which we were steering, and when at last 
I sprang upon the shore, I heard, and saw myself now first sur- 
rounded by men of Asiatic race ; I have since ridden through 
the land of the Osmanlees, from the Servian Border to the Golden 
Horn, — from the gulph of Satalieh to the tomb of Achilles ; but 
never have I seen such ultra-Turkish looking fellows as those 
who received me on the banks of the Save ; they were men in 
the humblest order of life, having come to meet our boat in the 
hope of earning something by carrying our luggage up to the 
city, but poor though they were, it was plain that they were 
Turks of the proud old school, and had not yet forgotten the 
fierce, careless bearing of the once victorious Ottomans. 

Though the province of Servia generally has obtained a kind 
of independence, yet Belgrade, as being a place of strength on 
the frontier, is still garrisoned by Turkish troops, under the com- 
mand of a Pasha. Whether the fellows who now surrounded us 
were soldiers, or peaceful inhabitants, I did not understand; 
they wore the old Turkish costume ; vests and jackets of many 
brilliant colors divided from the loose petticoat-trowsers by 
masses jf shawl, which were folded in heavy volumes around 
their waists, so as to give the meagre wearers something of the 
dignity of true corpulence. The shawl enclosed a whole bundle 
of weapons ; no man bore less than one brace of immensely 
long pistols, and a yataghan (or cutlass), with a dagger or two, 
of various shapes and sizes ; most of these arms were inlaid 
with silver, and highly burnished, so that they contrasted 



4 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. I. 



shiningly with the decayed grandeur of the garments to which 
they were attached (this carefuhiess of his arms is a point of 
nonor with the Osmanlee, who never allows his bright yataghan 
to suffer from his own adversity) ; then the long drooping mus- 
tachio=5 and the ample folds of the once white turbans, that 
lowered over the piercing eyes, and the haggard features of the 
men, gave them an air of gloomy pride, and that appearance of 
trying to be disdainful under difficulties, which I have since 
seen so often in those of the Ottoman people who live, and re- 
member old times ; they seem as if they were thinking that 
they would have been more usefully, more honorably, and 
more piously employed in cutting our throats, than in carrying 
our portmanteaus. The faithful Steel (Methley's Yorkshire 
servant) stood aghast for a moment, at the sight of his master's 
luggage upon the shoulders of these warlike porters, and when 
at last we began to move up, he could scarcely avoid turning 
round to cast an affectionate look towards Christendom, but 
quickly again he marched on with the steps of a man, not fright- 
ened exactly, but sternly prepared for death, or the Koran, or 
even for plural wives. 

The Moslem quarter of a city is lonely and desolate ; you go 
up and down, and on over shelving and hillocky paths through 
the narrow lanes walled in by blank, windowless dwellings ; 
you come out upon an open space strewed with the black ruins 
that some late fire has left ; you pass by a mountain of cast- 
away things, the rubbish of centuries, and on it you see numbers 
of big, wolf-like dogs lying torpid under the sun, with limbs 
outstretched to the full, as if they were dead ; storks, or cranes, 
sitting fearless upon the low roofs, look gravely down upon you ; 
the still air that you breathe is loaded with the scent of citron, 
and pomegranate rinds scorched by the sun, or (as you approach 
vhe Bazzar) with the dry, dead perfume of strange spices. 
You long for some signs of life, and tread the ground more 
heavily, as though you would wake the sleepers with the heel 
of your boot ; but the foot falls noiseless upon the crumbling soil 
of an eastern city, and Silence follows you still. Again and 
again you meet turbans, and faces of men, but they have noth- 
ing for you— no welcome— no wonder — no wrath— no scorn— 



CHAP. I.] 



OVER THE BORDER. 



5 



they look upon you as we do upon a December's fall of snow — 
as a " seasonable/' unaccountable, uncomfortable work of God, 
that may have been sent for some good purpose, to be revealed 
hereafter. 

Some people had come down to meet us with an invitation 
from the Pasha, and we wound our way up to the castle. At 
the gates there were groups of soldiers, some smoking, and some 
lying flat like corpses upon the cool stones ; we went through 
courts, ascended steps, passed along a corridor, and walked into 
an airy, white-washed room, with an European clock at one end 
of it, and Moostapha Pasha at the other ; the fine, old, bearded 
potentate looked very like Jove — like Jove, too, in the midst of 
his clouds, for the silvery fumes of the Narguile* hung lightly 
circling round him. 

The Pasha received us with the smooth, kind, gentle mann.er 
that belongs to well-bred Osmanlees ; then he lightly clapped 
his hands, and instantly the sound filled all the lower end of the 
room with slaves; a syllable dropped from his lips which bowed 
all heads, and conjured away the attendants like ghosts (their 
coming and their going was thus swift and quiet, because their 
feet were bare, and they passed through no door, but only by 
the yielding folds of a purder). Soon the coffee bearers ap- 
peared, every man carrying separately his tiny cup in a small 
metal stand, and presently to each of us there came a pipe- 
bearer, who first rested the bowl of the tcliibouque at a measured 
distance on the floor, and then, on this axis, wheeled round the 
long cherry-stick, and gracefully presented it on half-bended 
knee ; already the well-kindled fire was glowing secure in the 
bowl, and so, when I pressed the amber lip to mine, there was 
no coyness to conquer ; the willing fume came up, and answered 
my slightest sigh, and followed softly every breath inspired, till 
it touched me with some faint sense and understanding of Asiatic 
contentment. •]• 

* The Narguile is a water-pipe upon the plan of the Hookah, but more 
gracefully fashioned ; the smoke is drawn by a very long flexible tube that 
winds its snake-like way from the vase to the lips of the beatified smoker. 

t Fine talking this, you will say, for one who can't smoke a cigar : but 
ask any Eastern tiaveller if it is no"- quite possible to love the tchibouque. 



6 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. I 



Asiatic contentment ! Yet scarcely, perhaps, one hour be- 
fore, I had been wanting my bill, and ringing for waiters in a 
shrill and busy hotel. 

In the Ottoman dominions there is scarcely any hereditary 
influence except that which belongs to the family of the Sultan, 
and wealth, too, is a highly volatile blessing, not easily trans- 
mitted to the descendants of the owner. From these causes it 
results, that the people standing in the place of nobles and gen- 
try, a^re official personages, and though many (indeed the greater 
number) of these potentates are humbly born and bred, you will 
seldom, I think, find them wanting in that polished smoothness of 
manner, and those well undulating tones which belong to the 
best Osmanlees. The truth is, that most of the m^en in authority 
have risen from their humble stations by the arts of the courtier, 
and they preserve in their high estate, those gentle powers of 
fascination to which they owe their success. Yet unless you 
can contrive to learn a little of the language, you will be rather 
bored by your visits of ceremony ; the intervention of the inter 
preter, or Dragoman as he is called, is fatal to the spirit of con- 
versation. I think I should mislead you, if I were to attempt to 
give the substance of any particular conversation with Orientals. 
A traveller may write and say that, the Pasha of So-and-So 
was particularly interested in the vast progress which has been 
made in the application of steam, and appeared to understand 
the structure of our machinery — that he remarked upon the 
gigantic results of our manufacturing industry — showed that he 
possessed considerable knowledge of our Indian affairs, and of 
the constitution of the Company, and expressed a lively admira- 
tion of the many sterling qualities for which the people of Eng~ 
land are distinguished." But the heap of common-places thus 
quietly attributed to the Pasha, will have been founded perhaps 
on some such talking as this : — 

Pasha, — The Englishman is welcome ; most blessed among 
hours is this, the hour of his coming. 

Dragoman (to the Traveller). — The Pasha pays you his con> 
pliments. 

and the narguLe, without being able to endure the European contrivancea 
for smoking. 



CHAP l] 



OVER THE BORDER. 



1 



Traveller. — Give him my best compliments in return, and say 
I 'm delighted to have the honor of seeing him. 

Dr Lgoman (to the Pasha). — His Lordship, this Englishman, 
Lord of London, Scorner of Ireland, Suppresior of France, has 
quitted his governments, and left his enemies to breathe for a 
moment, and has crossed the broad waters in strict disguise, with a 
small but eternally faithful retinue of followers, in order that he 
might look upon the bright countenance of the Pasha among Pashas 
— the Pasha of the everlastinrj Pashalik of Karacrholookoldour. 

Traveller (to his Dragoman). — What on earth have you been 
saying about London ? The Pasha will be taking me for a mere 
cockney. Have not I told you always to say, that I am from a 
branch of the family of Mudcombe Park, and that I am to be a 
magistrate for the county of Bedfordshire, only I 've not qualified, 
and that I should have been a Deputy-Lieutenant, if it had not 
been for the extraordinary conduct of Lord Mountpromise, and 
that I was a candidate for Goldborough at the last election, and 
that I should have won easy, if my committee had not been 
bought. I wish to heaven that if you do say anything about 
me, you'd tell the simple truth. 

Dragoman — [is silent]. 

Pasha, — What says the friendly Lord of London ? is there 
aught that I can grant him within the pashalik of Karagholookol- 
dour ? 

Dragoman (growing sulky and literal). — This friendly Eng- 
lishman — this branch of Mudcombe — this head-purveyor of 
Goldborough — this possible policeman of Bedfordshire is re- 
counting his achievements, and the number of his titles. 

Pasha. — The end of his honors is more distant than the ends 
of the Earth, and the catalogue of his glorious deeds is brighter 
lhan the firmament of Heaven ! 

Dragoman (to the Traveller). — The Pasha congratulates your 
Excellency, 

Tm^^eZZer.— About Goldborough ? The deuce he does! — but 
I want to get at his views, in relation to the present state of the 
Ottoman Empire ; tell him the Houses of Parliament have met, 
and that there has been a Speech from the throne, pledging 
England to preserve the integrity of the Sultan's dominions. 



8 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. I 



Dragoman (to the Pasha). — This branch of Mudcombe, this 
possible policeman of Bedfordshire, informs your Highness that 
in England the talking houses have met, and that the integrity 
of the Sultan's dominions has been assured for . ever and ever, by 
a speech from the velvet chair. 

Pasha. — Wonderful chair ! Wonderful houses ! — whirr ! 
whirr! all by wheels ! — whiz! whiz! all by steam ! — wonderful 
chair ! wonderful houses ! wonderful people ! — whirr ! whirr ! 
all by wheels !- — whiz ! whiz ! all by steam ! 

Traveller (to the Dragoman). — What does the Pasha mean by 
the whizzing ? he does not mean to say, does he, that our Gov- 
ernment will ever abandon their pledges to the Sultan ? 

Dragoman. — No, your Excellency ; but he says the English 
talk by wheels and by steam. 

Traveller .—Th^i^ & an exaggeration ; but say that the English 
really have carried machinery to great perfection ; tell the 
Pasha (he'll be struck with that), that whenever we have any 
disturbances to put down, even at two or three hundred miles 
from London, we can send troops by the thousand, to the scene 
of action, in a few hours. 

Dragoman (recovering his temper and freedom of speech).— 
His Excellency this Lord of Mu-dcombe, observes to your High- 
ness, that whenever the L'ish, or the French, or the Indians rebel 
against the English, whole armies of soldiers, and brigades of 
artillery, are dropped into a mighty chasm called Euston Square, 
and in the biting of a cartridge they arise up again in Manches- 
ter, or Dublin, or Paris, or Delhi, and utterly exterminate the 
enemies of England from the face of the Earth. 

Pasha. — I know it — I know all — the particulars have been 
faithfully related to me, and my mind comprehends locomotives. 
The armies of the English ride upon the vapors of boiling caul- 
drons, and their horses are flaming coals !— whirr ! whirr ! all by 
wheels ! — \^ hiz ! whiz ! all by steam ! 

Traveller {to his Dragoman). — I wish to have the opinion of 
an unprejudiced Ottoman gentleman, as to the prospects of our 
English commerce and manufactures ; just ask the Pasha to 
give me his views on the subjec';« 

Pasha (after having received the communicat/on of the Dra- 



CHAP. I.J 



OVER THE BORDER. 



goman). — The ships of the English swarm like flies; theii 
printed calicoes cover the whole earth, and by the side of their 
swords the blades of Damascus are blades of grass. All India 
is but an item in the Ledger-books of the Merchants, whose 
lumber-rooms are filled with ancient thrones ^ — whirr ! whirr ! 
all by wheels ! — whiz ! w^hiz ! all by steam ! 

Dragoman, — The Pasha compliments the cutlery of England 
and also the East India Company. 

Traveller. — The Pasha's right about the cutlery (I tried my 
scimitar with the common officers' swords belonging to our fel- 
lows at Malta, and they cut it like th-e leaf of a Novel). Well 
(to the Dragom.an), tell the Pasha I am exceedingly gratified to 
find that he entertains such a high opinion of our manufacturing 
energy, but I should like him to know, though, that we have got 
something in England besides that. These foreigners are always 
fancying that we have nothing but ships, and railways, and East 
India Companies; do just tell the Pasha that our rural districts 
deserve his attention, and that even within the last two hundred 
years, there has been an evident improvement in the culture of 
the turnip, and if he does not take any interest about that, at all 
events you can explain that we have our virtues in the country 
— that the British yeoman is still, thank God ! the British yeo- 
man : — Oh ! and by the by, whilst you are about it, you may 
as well say that we are a truth-telling people, and, like the 
Osmjanlees, are faithful in the performance of our promises. 

Faslia (after hearing the Dragoman), — It is true, it is true : — 
through all Feringhistan the English are foremost and best ; for 
the Russians are drilled swine, and the Germans are sleeping 
babes, and the Italians are the servants of Songs, and the French 
are the sons of Newspapers, and the Greeks they are weavers 
of lies, but the English and the Osmanlees are brothers together 
in righteousness ; for the Osmanlees believe in one only God, 
and cleave to the Koran, and destroy idols ; so do the English 
worship one God, and abominate graven images, and tell the 
truth, and believe in a book, and though they drink the juice of 
the grape, yet to say that they worship their prophet as God, or 
to say that they are eaters of pork, these are lies, — lies born of 
Greeks, and nursed by Jews ! 



10 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, % 



Dragoman, — The Pasha compliments the English. 

Traveller (rising). — Well, I've had enough of this. Tell the 
Pasha, I am greatly obliged to him for his hospitality, and still 
more for his kindness in furnishing me with horses, and say that 
now I must be off. 

Pasha (after hearing the Dragoman, and standing up on his 
Divan).— Proud are the sires, and blessed are the dams of the 
horses that shall carry his Excellency to the end of his prosper- 
ous journey. — May the saddle beneath him glide down to the 
gates of the happy city, like a boat swimming on the third river 
of Paradise.— May he sleep the sleep of a child, when his friends 
are around him, and the while that his enemies are abroad, may 
his eyes flame red through the darkness — more red than the 
eyes of ten tigers ! — farewell ! 

Dragoman. — The Pasha wishes your Excellency a pleasant 
journey. 

So ends the visit. 



OHAP. II.] JOURNEY— BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE. .1 



CHAPTER 11. 

Journey from Belgrade to Constantinople. 

In two or three hours our party was ready ; the servants, the 
Tatars, the mounted Suridgees, and the baggage-horses alto- 
gether made up a strong cavalcade. The accomplished Mysseri, 
of whom you have heard me speak so often, and who served me 
so faithfully throughout my oriental journeys, acted as our 
interpreter, and was, in fact, the brain of our corps. The Ta- 
tar, you know, is a government courier properly employed in 
carrying despatches, but also sent with travellers to speed them 
on their way, and answer with his head for their safety. The 
man whose head was thus pledged for our precious lives was a 
glorious looking fellow, with the regular, and handsome cast of 
countenance, which is now characteristic of the Ottoman race.* 
His features displayed a good deal of serene pride, self-respect, 
fortitude, a kind of ingenuous sensuality, and something of 
instinctive wisdom, without any sharpness of intellect. He had 
been a Janissary (as I afterwards found), and kept up the odd 
strut of his old corps, which used to affright the Christians in 
former times ; — that rolling gait is so comically pompous, that a 
close imitation of it, even in the broadest farce, would be looked 
upon as a very rough over-acting of the character. It is occa- 
sioned in part by the dress and accoutrements. The heavy 
bundle of weapons carried upon the chest throws back the body 
so as to give it a wonderful portliness, whilst the immense masses 
of clothes that swathe his limbs, force the wearer in walking, to 
swing himself heavily round from left to right, and from right to 
left — in truth, this great edifice of woollen, and cotton, and silk, 

* The continual marriages of these people, with the chosen beauties of 
Georgia and Circassia, have overpowered the original ugliness of their Tatar 
ancestors. 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, i \ 



and silver, and brass, and steel, is not at all fitted for moving on 
foot ; it cannot even walk without ludicrously deranging i^^ 
architectural proportions, and as to running, I once saw oui 
Tatar make an attempt at that laborious exercise, in order lu 
pick up a partridge which Methley had winged with a pistol , 
shot, and really the attempt was one of the funniest misdirec- 
tions of human energy that I ever beheld. It used to be said, 
that a good man, struggling with adversity, was a spectacle 
worthy of the gods : — -a Tatar attempting to run would have been 
a sight worthy of you. But put him in his stirrups, and then is 
the Tatar himself again : there you see him at his ease, reposing 
in the tranquillity of that true home (the home of his ancestors), 
which the saddle seems to afford him, and drawing from his pipe 
the calm pleasures of his '^own fireside," or else dashing sudden 
over the earth, as though for a moment he were borne by the ^teed 
of a Turkman chief, with the plains of central Asia before him. 
It was not till his subordinates had nearly completed their pre- 
parations for their march that our Tatar, " commanding the 
forces," arrived ; he came sleek, and fresh from the bath (for 
r§o is the custom of the Ottomans when they start upon a jour- 
ney), and was carefully accoutred at every point. From his 
thigh to his throat he was loaded with arms and other implements 
of a campaigning life. There is no scarcity of water along the 
whole road, from Belgrade to Stamboul, but the habits of our 
Tatar were formed by his ancestors, and not by himself, so he 
took good care to see that his leather water-flask was amply 
charged and properly strapped to the saddle, along with his 
blessed tchibouque. And now at last, he has cursed the Surid- 
gees, in all proper figures of speech, and is ready for a ride of a 
thousand miles, but before he comforts his ^^^oul in the marble 
baths of Stamboul, he will be another and a sPxialler man — his 
sense of responsibility, his too strict abstemiousness, and his rest- 
less energy, disdainful of sleep, will have worn him down to a 
fraction of the sleek Moostapha, that nov^ leads out our part) 
from the gates of Belgrade. 

The Suridgees are the fellows employed to lead the baggage 
norses. They are most of them Gipsies. Poor devils! their lo 
.•s an unhappy one — they are the last of the hum.an race, and al 



CHAP. II.] JOURNEY— BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE. :? 



the sins of their superiors (including the horses) can safely be 
visited on them. But the wretched look often more picturesque 
than their betters, and though all the world look down upon these 
poor Suridgees, their tawny skins, and their grisly beards, will 
gain them honorable standing in the foreground of a landscape. 
We had a couple of these fellows with us, each leading a bag- 
gage horse, to the tail of which last, another baggage horse was 
attached. There was a world of trouble in persuading the stiff 
angular portmanteaus of Europe to adapt themselves to their 
new condition, and sit quietly on pack-saddles, but all was right 
at last, and it gladdened my eyes to see our little troop file off 
through t^lie winding lanes of the city, and show down brightly 
m the plain beneath ; the one of our party that seemed to be 
most out of keeping with the rest of the scene, was Methley's 
Yorkshire servant, who rode doggedly on in his pantry jacket, 
looking out for gentlemen's seats.'' 

Methley and I had English saddles, but I think we should have 
Jone just as well (I should certainly have seen more of the 
country), if we had adopted saddles like that of our Tatar, who 
towered so loftily over the scraggy little beast that carried him. 
In taking thought for the East, whilst in England, I had made 
one capital hit which you must not forget — I had brought with 
me a pair of common spurs, which were a great comfort to 
throughout my travels by keeping up the cheerfulness of the 
many unhappy nags which I had to bestride ; the angle of the 
oriental stirrup is a very poor substitute for spurs. 

The Ottoman horseman, raised by his saddle to a great height 
above the humble level of the back which he bestrides, and 
using an awfully sharp bit, is able to lift the crest of his nag, 
and force him into a straiigely fast amble, which is the ortho- 
dox pace for the journey ; my comrade and I thought it a bore 
to be followed by our attendants for a thousand miles, and we 
generall}^, therefore, did duty as the rear-guard of our grand 
army we used to walk our horses till the party in front had 
got into the distance, and then retrieve the los ground by a 
gallop. 

We had ridden on for some two or three hours — the stir and 
bustle of our commencing journey had ceased — ^the liveliness of 



14 



EOTHEN, 



[chap. II. 



our little troop had worn off with the declining day, and the 
night closed in as we entered the Great Servian forest, through 
which our road was to last for more than a hundred miles. 
Endless, and enaless now on either side, the tall oaks closed in 
their ranks, and stood gloomily lowering over us, as grim as an 
army of giants with a thousand years' pay in arrear. One 
strived with listening ear to catch some tidings of that Forest 
World within — some stirring of beasts, some night bird's scream, 
but all was quite hushed, except the voice of the cicalas that 
peopled every bough, and filled the depths of the forest through, 
and through, with one same hum everlasting — more stilling than 
very silence. 

At first our way was in darkness, but after a while the moon 
got up and touched the glittering arms and tawny faces of our 
men with light so pale and mystic, that the watchful Tatar felt 
bound to look out for Demons, and take proper means for keep- 
ing them off ; he immediately determined that the duty of fright- 
ening away our ghostly enemies (like every other troublesome 
work), should fall upon the poor Suridgees, who accordingly 
lifted up their voices, and burst upon the dreadful stillness of 
the forest with shrieks and dismal howls. These precautions 
were kept up incessantly, and were followed by the most com- 
plete success, for not one demon came near us. 

Long before midnight, we reached the hamlet in which we 
were to rest for the night ; it was made up of about a dozen 
clay huts, standing upon a small tract of ground which had 
been conquered from the forest. The peasants that lived there 
spoke a Slavonic dialect, and Mysseri's knowledge of the Rus- 
sian tongue enabled him to talk with them freelyc We soon 
took up our quarters in a square room, with white v/alls, and an 
earthen floor, quite bare- of furniture and utterly void of women. 
They told us, however, that these Servian villagers were very 
well off, but that they were careful to conceal their wealth, as 
well as their wives. 

The burthens unstrapped from the packsaddles very quickly 
furnished our den ; a couple of quilts spread upon the floor, 
with a carpet bag at the head of each, became capital sofas — • 
l^ortmanteaus, and hat boxes, and writing cases, and books, and 



CHJLT. II.] JOURNEY— BELGRADE 10 CONSTANTINOPLE. 15 



maps, and gleaming arms, were soon strewed around us in plea- 
sant confusion ; Mysseri's canteen, too, began to yield up its 
reasures, but we relied upon finding some 'provisions in the vil- 
age. At first the natives declared that their hens were mere 
old maids, and all their cows unmarried, but our Tatar swore 
such a grand, sonorous oath, and fingered the hilt of his yata^ 
^han with such persuasive touch, that the land soon flowed with 
milk, and mountains of eggs arose. 

And soon there was tea before us, with all its unspeakable 
fragrance, and as we reclined on the floor, we found that a port- 
manteau was just the right height for a table ; the duty of can- 
dlesticks was ably performed by a couple of intelligent natives ; 
the rest of them stood by the open door-way at the lower end of 
the room, and watched our banqueting with deep and serious 
attention. 

The first night of your first campaign (though you be but a 
mere peaceful campaigner) is a glorious time in your life. l\ 
is so sweet to find oneself free from the stale civilisation of 
Europe! Oh my dear ally ! when first you spread your carpet 
in the midst of these eastern scenes, do think for a moment 
of those your fellow creatures, that dwell in squares, and streets, 
and even (for such is the fate of many l) in actual country 
houses ; think of the people that are presenting their com- 
pliments," and requesting the honor,'^ and much regretting," 
— of those that are pinioned at dinner tables, or stuck up in 
ball-rooms, or cruelly planted in pews — ay, think of these, and 
so remembering how many poor devils are living in a state of 
utter respectability, you will glory the more in your own de- 
lightful escape. 

I am bound to confess, however, that with all its charms, a 
mud floor (like a mercenary match) does certainly promote 
early rising. Long before daybreak we were up, and had 
breakfasted ; after this there was nearly a whole tedious hour 
to endure, whilst the horses were laden by torch-light; but this 
had an end, and at last we went on once more. Cloaked, and 
sombre, at first we made our sullen way through the darkness, 
with scarcely one barter of words, but soon the genial morning 
ourst over us, and stirred the blood so gladly through our veins 



10 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. II. 



that the very Suridgees, with all their troubles, could now look 
up for an instant, and almost believe in the temporary goodness 
of God. 

The actual movement from one place to another, in Euro- 
peanized countries, is a process so temporary — it occupies, I 
mean, so small a portion of the traveller's entire time, that his 
mind remains unsettled, so long as the wheels are going ; he 
is alive enough to the external objects of interest, which the 
route may afford, and to the crowding ideas which are often 
invited by the excitement of a changing scene, but he is still 
conscious of being in a provisional state, and his mind is con- 
stantly recurring to the expected end of his journey ; his ordi- 
nary ways of thought have been interrupted, and before any 
new mental habits can be formed he is quietly fixed in his hotel. 
It will be otherwise with you when you journey in the East. 
Day after day, perhaps week after week, and month after month, 
your foot is in the stirrup. To taste the cold breath of the ear- 
liest morn, and to lead or follow your bright cavalcade till sun- 
set through forests, and mountain passes, through valleys, and 
desolate plains, all this becomes your MODE OF LIFE, and 
you ride, eat, drink, and curse the mosquitoes, as systematic 
cally as your friends in England eat, drink, and sleep. If you 
are wise, you will not look upon the long period of time thus 
occupied by your journeys as the mere gulfs which divide you 
from the place to which you are going, but rather as most rare 
and beautiful portions of your life, from which may come tem- 
per and strength. Once feel this, and you will soon grow happy 
and contented in your saddle home. As for me and my com- 
rade, in this part of our journey we often forgot Stamboul, 
forgot all the Ottoman Empire, and only remembered old times. 
We went back, loitering on the banks of Thames — not grim old 
Thames of after life" that washes the Parliament Houses, and 
drowns despairing girls, — but Thames the old Eton fellow" 
that wrestled with us in our boyhood till he taught us to be 
stronger than he. We bullied Keate, and scoffed at Larrey 
Miller, and Okes ; we rode along loudly laughing, and talked 
to the grave Servian . forest, as though it were the Brocaa 
clumu." Our pace was commonly very slow, for the baggage 



<5HAP II.] JOURNEY— BELGRALE TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 17 



horses served us for a drag, and kept us to a rate of little more 
than five miles in the hour, but now and then, and chiefly at 
night; a spirit of movement would suddenly animate the whole 
party ; the baggage horses would be teazed into a gallop, and 
when once this was done, there would be such a banging of 
portmanteaus, and such convulsions of carpet bags upon their 
panting sides, and the Suridgees would follow them up with such 
a hurricane of blows and screams and curses, that stopping or 
relaxing was scarcely possible ; then the rest of us would put 
our horses into a gallop, and so all shouting cheerily, would hunt, 
and drive the sumpter beasts like a flock of goats, up hill and 
down dale, right on to the end of their journey. 

The distances at which we got relays of horses varied greatly ; 
some were not more than fifteen or twenty miles, but twice, I 
think, we performed a whole day's journey of more than sixty 
miles w^ith the same beasts. 

When, at last, we came out from the forest, our road lay 
through scenes like those of an English park. The green 
sward unfenced, and left to the free pasture of cattle, was dotted 
with groups of stately trees, and here and there darkened over 
with larger masses of wood, that seemed gathered together for 
bounding the domain, and shutting out some infernal fellow- 
creature in the shape of a new-made squire : in one or two spots 
the hanging copses looked down upon a lawn below with such 
sheltering mien, that seeing the like in England, you would have 
been tempted ahnost to ask the name of the spendthrift, or the mad- 
man who had dared to pull down the old hall. 

There are few countries less infested by lions " than the 
provinces on this part of your route ; you are not called upon 

to drop a tear'' over the tomb of the once brilliant " any- 
body, or to pay your " tribute of respect " to anything dead, or 
alive ; there are no Servian, or Bulgarian Litterateurs with 
whom it would be positively disgraceful not to form an acquaint- 
ance ; you have no staring, no praising to get through ; the 
only public building of any interest which lies on the road is of 
modern date, but is said to be a good specimen of oriental 
architecture ; it is of a pyramidical shape, and is made up of 
thirty thousand skulls which were contributed by the rebellious 
3 



18 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. II 



Servians in the early part (I believe) of this century ; I am not 
at, all sure of my date, but I fancy it was in the year 1806 that 
the first skull was laid. I am ashamed to say, that in the dark- 
ness of the early morning, we unknowingly went by the neigh- 
borhood of this triumph of art, and so basely got off from admir- 
ing " the simple grandeur of the architect's conception,'' and 
" the exquisite beauty of the fretwork." 

There being no lions," we ought at least to have met with 
a few perils, but there w^ere no women to attack our peace (they 
were all wrapt up, or locked in), and as for robbers, the only 
robbers we saw anything of had been long since dead and gone ; 
the j)oor fellows had been impaled upon high poles, and so 
propped up by the transverse spokes beneath them, that their 
skeletons, clothed with some white, wax- like remains of flesh, 
still sat up lolling in the sunshine, and listlessly stared without 
eyes. 

One day it seemed to me that our path was a little more 
rugged, and less level than usual, and I found that I was deserv- 
ing for myself the title of Sabalkansky, or Transcender of the 
Balcan." The truth is, that, as a military barrier, the Balcan 
is a fabulous mountain ; such seems to be the view of Major 
Keppell, who looked on it towards the East with the eye of a 
soldier, and certainly in the Sophia pass, which I followed, there 
is no narrow defile, and no ascent sufficiently difficult to stop, or 
delay for long time, a train of siege artillery. 

Before we reached Adrianople, Methley had been seized with 
we knew not what ailment, and when we had taken up our 
quarters in the city, he was cast to the very earth by sickness. 
Adrianople enjoyed an English Consul, and I felt sure that, in 
Eastern phrase, his house would cease to be his house, and 
would become the house of my sick comrade ; I should have 
judged rightly under ordinary circumstances, but the levelling 
plague was abroad, and the dread of it had dominion over the 
consular mind. So now (whether dying or not, one could 
hardly tell), upon a quilt stretched out along the floor, there lay 
the best hope of an ancient line, without the material aids to 
comfort of even the humblest sort, and (sad to say) without the 
consolation of a friend, or even a comrade worth having. I 



CHAP. II.] JOURNEY— BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 19 



nave a notion that tenderness and pity are affections occasioned 
in some measure by living within doors ; certainly, at the time 
1 speak of, the open air life which I had been leading, or the 
wayfaring hardships of the journey had so strangely blunted 
me, that I felt intolerant of illness, and looked down upon my 
companion as if the poor fellow in falling ill had betrayed a 
decided want of spirit ! I entertained, too, a most absurd idea — 
an idea that his illness was partly affected. You see that I have 
made a confession : this I hope — that I may always hereafter 
look charitably upon the hard, savage acts of peasants, and the 
cruelties of a "brutal" soldiery. God knows that I strived to 
melt myself into common charity, and to put on a gentleness 
which 1 could not feel, but this attempt did not cheat the keen- 
ness of the sufferer ; he could not have felt the less deserted, 
because that I was with him. 

We called to aid a solemn Armenian (I think he was), half 
soothsayer, half hakim, or doctor, who, all the while counting 
his beads, fixed his eyes steadily upon the patient, and then sud- 
denly dealt him a violent blow on the chest. Methley bravely 
dissembled his pain, for he fancied that the blow was meant to 
try whether or not the plague were on him. 

Here was really a sad embarrassment — no bed — nothing to 
offer the invalid in the shape of food, save a piece of thin, tough, 
flexible, drab-colored cloth, made of flour and mill-stones in 
equal proportions, and called by the name of "bread ;" then 
the patient, of course, had no " confidence in his medical man," 
and on the whole, the best chance of saving my comrade seemed 
to be by taking him out of the reach of his doctor, and bearing 
him away to the neighborhood of some more genial consul. 
But how was this to be done ? Methley was much too ill to be 
kept in the saddle, and wheel-carriages, as means of travelling, 
were unknown. There is, however, such a thing as an " Ara- 
ba," a vehicle drawn by oxen, in which the wives of a rich man 
are sometimes dragged four or five miles over the grass by way 
of recreation. The carriage is rudely framed, but you recog- 
nize in the simple grandeur of its design a likeness to things 
majestic ; in short, if your carpenter's son were to make a 
" Lord Mayor's coacl " for little Amy, he would build a carriage 



20 



EOTHEN. 



[chap II 



very much in the style of a Turkish Araba. No one had ever 
beard of horses being used for drawing a carriage in this part 
of the world, but necessity is the mother of Innovation, as well 
as of Invention. I was fully justified, I think, in arguing that 
there were numerous instances of horses being used for that 
purpose in our own country — that the laws of nature are uniform 
in their operation over all the world (exj^ept Ireland)— that that 
which was true in Piccadilly, must be true in Adrianople — that 
the matter could not fairly be treated as an ecclesiastical ques- 
tion, for that the circumstance of Methley's going on to Stam- 
boul in an Araba drawn by horses, when calmly and dispassion- 
ately considered, would appear to be perfectly consistent with 
the maintenance of the Mahometan religion, as by law establish- 
ed. Thus poor, dear, patient Reason would have fought her 
slow battle against Asiatic prejudice, and I am convinced that 
she would have established the possibility (and perhaps, even the 
propriety) of harnessing horses in a hundred and fifty years ; 
but in the meantime Mysseri, well seconded by our Tatar, put 
a very quick end to the controversy, by having the horses 
put to. 

It was a sore thing for me to see my poor comrade brought to 
this, for young though he was, he was a veteran in travel ; when 
scarcely yet of age, he had invaded India from the frontiers of 
Russia, and that so swiftly, that measuring by the time of his 
flight, the broad dominions of the King of Kings were shrivelled 
up to a Dukedom, and now poor fellow, he was to be poked into 
an Araba, like a Georgian girl ! He suffered greatly, for there 
were no springs for the carriage, and no road for the wheels, 
and so the concern jolted on over the open country, with such 
twists and jerks and jumps, as might almost dislocate the sup- 
ple tongue of Satan. 

All day the patient kept himself shut up within the lattice- 
work of the Araba, and I could hardly know how he was fering 
until the end of the day's journey, when I found that he was not 
worse, and was buoyed up with the hope of some day reaching 
Constantinople. 

I was always conning over my maps, and fancied that I knew 
pretty well my line, but after Adrianople I had made more 



CHAP. II.] JOURNEY— BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 21 



southing than I knew for, and it was with unbelieving wonder, 
and delight, that I came suddenly upon the shore of the sea ; a 
little while, and its gentle billows were flowing beneath the 
hoofs of my beast, but the hearing of the ripple was not enough 
communion, — and the seeing of the blue Propontis was not to 
know and possess it — I must needs plunge into its depths, and 
quench my longing love in the palpable waves ; and so when 
old Moostapha (defender against demons) looked around for his 
charge, he saw v/ith horror and dismay, that he for whose life 
his own life stood pledged, was possessed of some devil who had 
driven him down into the sea — that the rider and the steed had 
vanished from earth, and that out among the waves was the 
gasping crest of a post horse, and the pale head of the English- 
man miOving upon the face of the waters. 

We started very early indeed, on the last day of our journey, 
and from the moment of being off, until we gained the shelter of 
the imperial walls, we were struggling face to face with an icy 
storm that swept right down from the steppes of Tartary, keen, 
fierce, and steady as a northern conqueror. Methley's servant, 
who was the greatest sufferer, kept his saddle until we reached 
Stamboul, but was then found to be quite benumbed in limbs 
and his brain was so much affected, that when he was lifted fronj 
his horse, he fell away in a state of unconsciousness, the firsi 
stage of a dangerous fever. 

Methley, in his Araba, had been sheltered from the storm, bul 
he was sadly ill. I myself bore up capitally for a delicate per. 
son, bul I was so well watered, and the blood of my veins had 
shrunk away so utterly from the chilling touch of the blast, that 
I must have looked more fit for a watery grave, than for tlie city 
of the Prince, whom men call Brother of the Sun." 

Our Tatar, worn down by care and toil, and carrying seven 
heavens full of water, in his manifold jackets and shawls, was 
a mere weak and vapid dilution of the sleek Moostapha, who 
scarce more than one fortnight before came out like a bride- 
groom from his chamber, to take the command of our party. 

Mysseri seemed somewhat over-wearied, but he had lost none 
of his strangely quiet energy ; he wore a grave look, however, 
for he now had learned that the plague was prevailing at Con- 



22 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. II 



stantinople, and he was fearing that our two sick men, and the 
miserable looks of our whole party, might make us unwelcome 
at Pera. 

Our poor, dear portmanteaus, whose sharp, angular forms had 
rebelled so rudely against the pack-saddles, were now reduced to 
soft, pulpy substances, and the things which were in them could 
plainly be of no immediate use to anybody but a merman, or a 
river-god ; the carpet bags seemed to contain nothing but mere 
solutions of coats and boots, escaping drop by drop. 

We crossed the Golden Horn in a caique; as soon as we had 
landed, some wo-begone looking fellows were got together, and 
laden with our baggage. Then, on we went, dripping, and 
sloshing, and looking very like men that had been turned back 
by the Royal Humane Society, as being incurably drowned. 
Supporting our sick, we climbed up shelving steps, and threaded 
many windings, and at last came up into the main street of Pera, 
humbly hoping that we might not be judged guilty of plague, 
and so be cast back with horror from the doors of the shudder- 
ing Christians. 

Such was the condition of our party, which fifteen days before 
had filed away so gaily from the gates of Belgrade. A couple 
of fevers, and a north-easterly storm, had thoroughly spoiled our 
looks. 

The interest of Mysseri with the house of Giuseppeni was too 
powerful to be denied, and at once, though not without fear and 
trembling, we were admitted as guests. 



CHAP. III.] 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 



33 



CHAPTER IIL 

Constantinople. 

EvEJN if we don't take a part in the chaunt about " Mosques and 
Minarets/' we can still yield praises to Stamboul. We can 
chaunt about the harbor ; we can say and sing, that nowhere 
else does the sea come so home to a city ; there are no pebbly 
shores — no sand bars — no slimy river-beds — no black canals — 
no locks nor docks to divide the very heart of the place from the 
deep waters ; if, being in the noisiest mart of Stamboul, you 
would stroll to the quiet side of the way amidst those Cypresses 
opposite, you will cross the fathomless Bosphorus ; if you would 
go from your hotel to the Bazaars, you must go by the brigli^:, 
blue pathway of the Golden Horn, that can carry a thousand 
sail of the line. You are accustomed to the Gondolas that glide 
among the palaces of St. Mark, but here at Stamboul it is a 
hundred and twenty gun ship that meets you in the street. 
Venice strains out from the steadfast land, and in old times would 
send forth the Chief of the State to woo, and wed the reluctant 
sea ; but the stormy bride of the Doge is the bowing slave of the 
Sultan — she comes to his feet with the treasures of the world — • 
she bears him from palace to palace — by some unfailing witch- 
craft, she entices the breezes to follow her,* and fan the pale 
cheek of her lord — she lifts his armed navies to the very gates 
of his garden — she watches the walls of his Serail — she stifles 
the intrigues of his Ministers — she quiets the scandals of his 
Court — she extinguishes his rivals, and hushes his naughty 
wives all one by one. So vast are the wonders of the Deep ! 

All the while that I stayed at Constantinople, the Plague was 
prevailing, but not with any degree of violence ; its ipresence, 

* There is almost always a breeze, either from the Marmora, or from the 
Plack Sea that passes along through the Bosphorus. 



24 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. Ill 



jhowever, lent a mysterious, and exciting, though not very plea^ 
sant interest to my first knowledge of a great Oriental city ; it 
gave tone and color to all I saw, and all I felt — a tone, and a 
color sombre enough, but true, and well befitting the dreary 
monuments of past power and splendor. With all that is most 
truly oriental in its character, the Plague is associated ; it dwells 
with the faithful in the holiest quarters of their city : the coats 
and the hats of Pera are held to be nearly as innocent of infec- 
iion as they are ugly in shape and fashion ; but the rich furs, 
and the costly shawls, the broidered slippers, and the gold-laden 
saddle-cloths — the fragrance of burning aloes, and the rich 
aroma of patchouli — these are the signs which mark the familiar 
home of Plague. You go out from your living London — -the 
centre of the greatest and strongest amongst all earthly dominions 
— you go out thence, and travel on to the capital of an Eastern 
Prince — you find but a waning power, and a faded splendor, 
that inclines you to laugh and mock ; but let the infernal Angel 
of Plague be at hand, and he, more mighty than armies — more 
terrible than Suleyman in his glory, can restore such pomp and 
majesty to the weakness of the Imperial walls, that if, whe^i HE 
is there, you must still go prying amongst the shades of this dead 
Empire, at least you will tread the path with seemly reverence 
and awe. 

It is the firm faith of almost all the Europeans living in the East, 
that Plague is conveyed by the touch of infected substances, and 
that the deadly atoms especially lurk in all kinds of clothes and 
furs ; it is held safer to breathe the same air with a man sick of 
the Plague, and even to come in contact with his skin, than to be 
touched by the smallest particle of woollen, or of thread, which 
may have been within the reach of possible infection. If this 
notion be correct, the spread of the malady must be materially 
aided by the observance of a custom which prevails amongst the 
people of Stamboul ; when an Osmanlee dies, it is usual to cut 
uj) one of his dresses, and to send a small piece of it to each of 
his friends, as a memorial of the departed. A fatal present is 
this, ac^rding to the opinion of the Franks, for it too often 
forces the living not merely to remember the dead man, but to 
follow and bear him company. 



CHAP. III.l 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 



25 



The Europeans during the prevalence of the Plague, if they 
are forced to venture into the streets, v/ill carefully avoid the 
touch of every human being whom they pass ; their conduct in 
this respect shows them strongly in contrast with the true 
believers the Moslem stalks on serenely, as though he were 
under the eye of his God, and were ''equal to either fate the 
Franks go crouching, and slinking from death, and some (those 
chiefly of French extraction) will fondly strive to fence out 
Destiny with shining capes of oilskin ! 

For some time you may manage by great care to thread your 
way through the streets of Stamboul, without incurring contact, 
for the Turks, though scornful of the terrors felt by the Franks, 
are generally very courteous in yielding to that which they 
hold to be a useless and impious precaution, and will let you 
pass safe, if they can. It is impossible, however, that your im- 
munity can last for any length of time, if you move about much 
through the narrow streets and lanes of a crowded city. 

As for me, I soon got compromised." After one day of 
rest, the prayers of my hostess began to lose their power of 
keeping me from the pestilent side of the Golden Horn. Faith- 
fully promising to shun the touch of all imaginable substances, 
however enticing, I set off very cautiously, and held my way 
uncompromised, till I reached the water's edge : but during the 
moment that I was waiting for my caique, some rueful-looking 
fellows came rapidly shambling down the steps with a plague- 
stricken corpse, which they were going to bury amongst the 
faithful on the other side of the w^ater. I contrived to be so 
much in the way of this brisk funeral, that I w^as not only 
touched by the men bearing the body, but also. I believe, by 
the foot of the dead man, which was lolling out of the bier. 
This accident gave me s^ch a strong interest in denying the 
soundness of the contagion theory, that I did in fact deny, and 
repudiate it altogether ; and from that time, acting upon my own 
convenient \"iew of the matter, I went wherever I chose, without 
taking any serious pains to avoid a touch. I have now some 
reason to think that the Europeans may be right, and that the 
Plague may be really conveyed by contagion ; but whilst I 
remained in the East, I happily entertained ideas more ap- 



26 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. Ul. 



proaching to those of the fatalist ; and so, when I afterwards 
encountered the Plague in full force, I was able to live amongst 
the dying with much less anxiety of mind, than I should have 
suffered, if I had believed that every touch which I met with, 
was a possible death-stroke. 

And perhaps as you make your difficult way through a steep 
and narrow alley, which winds between blank walls, and is 
little frequented by passers, you meet one of tho&e coffin-shaped 
bundles of white linen which implies an Ottoman lady. Pain- 
fully struggling against the obstacles to progression which are 
interposed by the many folds of her clumsy drapery, by her 
big mud boots, and especially by her two pairs of slippers, she 
waddles along full awkwardly enough, but yet there is some- 
thing of womanly consciousness in the very labor and effort 
with which she tugs and lifts the burthen of her charms ; she is 
close followed by her women slaves. Of her very self you see 
nothing, except the dark, luminous eyes that stare against your 
face, and the tips of the painted fingers depending like rose- 
buds from out the blank bastions of the fortress. She turns, and 
turns again, and carefully glances around her on all sides, to 
see that she is safe from the eyes of Mussulmans, and then sud- 
denly withdrawing the yashmak,* she shines upon your heart 
and soul with all the pomp and might of her beauty. And this 
which so dizzies your brain is not the light, changeful grace, 
which leaves you to doubt whether you have fallen in love with 
a body, or only a soul ; it is the beauty that dwells secure in 
the perfectness of hard, downrigM outlines, and in the glow of 
generous color. There is fire, though, too — high courage, and 
fire enough in the untamed mind, or spirit, or whatever it is, 
which drives the breath of pride through those scarcely parted 
lips. 

You smile at pretty women — you turn pale before the beauty 
that is great enough to have dominion over you. She sees, and 
exults in your giddiness ; she sees and smiles ; then presently, 

* The YashxHak, you know, is not a mere semi-transparent veil, but rather 
a good substantial petticoat applied to the face ; it thoroughly conceals all 
the features, except the eyes ; the way of withdrawing it is by pulling it 
down. 



CHAP. III.] 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 



27 



with a sudden movement, she lays her blushing fingers upon 
your arm, and cries out, " Yumourdjak !" (Plague ! meaning 
" there is a present of the Plague for you !") This is her no- 
tion of a witticism : it is a very old piece of fun, no doubt — quite 
an oriental Joe Miller ; but the Turks are fondly attached, not 
only to the institutions, but also to the jokes of their ancestors ; 
so, the lady's silvery laugh rings joyously in your ears, and 
the mirth of her women is boisterous and fresh, as though the 
bright idea of giving the Plague to a Christian had newly lit 
upon the earth. 

Methley began to rally very soon after we had reached Con- 
stantinople, but there seemed at first to be no chance of his re- 
gaining strength enough for travelling during the winter ; and 
I determined to stay with my comrade, until he had quite re- 
covered ; so I got a horse, and a pipe of tranquillity, and took 
a Turkish phrase-master. I troubled myself a great deal with 
the Turkish tongue, and gained at last some knowledge of its 
structure ; it is enriched, perhaps overladen, with Persian and 
Arabic words, which have been imported into the language, 
chiefly for the purpose of representing sentiments and religious 
dogmas, and terms of art and luxury, which were all unknown 
to the Tartar ancestors of the present Osmanlees ; but the body 
and spirit of the old tongue is yet alive, and the smooth words 
of the shop-keeper at Constantinople can still carry understand- 
ing to the ears of the untamed millions who rove over the plains 
of Northern Asia. The structure of the language, especially 
in its more lengthy sentences, is very like to the Latin ; the 
subject matters are slowly and patiently enumerated, without 
disclosing the purpose of the speaker until he reaches the end 
of his sentence, and then at last there comes the clenching word, 
v/hich gives a meaning and connexion to all that has gone 
before. If you listen at all to speaking of this kind, your atten- 
tion, rather than be suffered to flag, must grow more and more 
lively, as the phrase marches on. 

The Osmanlees speak well. In countries civilized according 
to the European plan, the work of trying to persuade tribunals 
is almost all performed by a set of men, the great body of whom 
very seldom do anything else ; but in Turkey, this division of 



28 



EOTHEN. 



[CHA'P. III. 



labor has never tak=3n place, and every man is his own advocate. 
The importance of the rhetorical art is immense, for a bad speech 
may endanger the property of the speaker, as well as the soles 
of his feet, and the free enjoyment of his throat. So it results 
that most of the Turks whom one sees, have a lawyer-like habit 
of speaking connectedly, and at length. The treaties continually 
going on in the bazaar for the buying and selling of the merest 
trifles, are carried on by speechifymg, rather than by mere 
colloquies, and the eternal uncertainty as to the market value ot 
things in constant sale, gives room for endless discussion. The 
seller is for ever demanding a price immensely beyond that for 
which he sells at last, and so occasions unspeakable disgust to 
many Englishmen, who cannot see why an honest dealer should 
ask more for his goods than he will really take : — the truth is, 
however, that an ordinary tradesman of Constantinople has no 
other way of finding out the fair market value of his property. 
The difficulty under which he labors is easily shown by com- 
paring the mechanism of the commercial system in Turkey, 
with that of our own country. In England, or in any other 
great mercantile country, the bulk of the things which are 
bought and sold, goes through the hands of a wholesale dealer, 
and it is he who higgles and bargains with an entire nation of 
purchasers, by entering into treaty with retail sellers. The 
labor of making a few large contracts is sufficient to give a clue 
for finding the fair market value of the things sold throughout 
the country ; but in Turkey, from the primitive habits of the 
people, and partly from the absence of great capital, and great 
credit, the importing merchant, the warehouseman, the whole- 
sale dealer, the retail dealer, and the shopman, are all one person. 
Old Moostapha, or Abdallah, or Hadgi Mohamed, waddles up 
from the water's edge with a small packet of merchandize, which 
he has bought out of a Greek brigantine, and when at last he has 
reached his nook in the bazaar, he puts his goods hefore the coun- 
ter, and himself uj)on it — then laying fire to his tchibouque he 
'^sits in permanence," and patiently waits to obtain the best price 
that can b3 got in an open market." This is his fair right as a sel- 
ler, but he has .no means of finding out what that best price is, 
except by actual experiment. He cannot know the intensity of 



CHAP. III.] 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 



29 



the demand, or the abundance of the supply, otherwise than by 
the offers which may be made for his little bundle of goods ; so 
he begins by asking a perfectly hopeless price, and thence 
descends the ladder until he meets a purchaser, for ever 

" striving to attain 
By shadowing out the unattainable." 

This is the struggle which creates the continual occasion for 
debate. The vendor, perceiving that the unfolded merchandize 
has caught the eye of a possible purchaser, commences his 
opening speech. He covers his bristling broadcloths, and his 
meagre silks, with the golden broidery of oriental praises, and 
as he talks, along with the slow and graceful waving of his 
arms, he lifts his undulating periods, upholds, and poises them 
well, till they have gathered their weight, and their strength, 
and then hurls them bodily forward, with grave, momentous 
swing. The possible purchaser listens to the whole speech with 
deep and serious attention ; but when it is over, Ms turn ar- 
rives ; he elaborately endeavors to show why he ought not to 
buy the things at a price twenty times more than their value ; 
bystanders, attracted to the debate, take a part in it as indepen- 
dent members — the vendor is heard in reply, and coming down 
with his price, furnishes the materials for a new debate. Some- 
times, however, the dealer, if he is a very pious Mussulman, 
and sufficiently rich to hold back his ware, will take a more 
dignified part, maintaining a kind of judicial gravity, and receiv- 
ing the applicants who come to his stall, as if they were rather 
suitors, than customers. He will quietly hear to the end, some 
long speech which concludes with an offer, and will answer it 
all with the one monosyllable " Yok,'^ which means distinctly 
" No." 

I caught one glimpse of the old Heathen World. My habits 
of studying military subjects had been hardening my heart 
against Poetry. For ever staring at the flames of battle, I had 
blinded myself to the lesser and finer lights that are shed from the 
im.aginations of men. In my reading at this time, I delighted to 
follow from out of Arabian sands, the feet of the amaed believers, 
and to stand in the broad, manifest storm-track of Tartar devas* 



30 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, in 



tation ; and thus, though surrounded at Constantinople, by scenes 
of much interest to the "classical scholar," I had cast aside their 
associations like an old Greek grammar, and turned my face to 
the shining Orient," forgetful of old Greece, and all the pure 
wealth she has left to this matter-of-fact-ridden world. But it 
happened to me one day to mount the high grounds overhang- 
ing the streets of Pera ; I sated my eyes with the pomps of the 
city, and its crowded waters, and then I looked over where 
Scutari lay half veiled in her mournful cypresses ; I looked yet 
farther, and higher, and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that 
stood fast, and still against the breeze ; it was pure, and daz- 
zling white as might be the veil of Cytherea, yet touched with 
fire, as though from beneath, the loving eyes of an immortal 
were shining through and through. I knew the bearing, but 
had enormously misjudged its distance, and underrated its 
height, and so it was as a sign and a testimony — almost as a call 
from the neglected gods, that now I saw and acknowledged the 
»iowy crown of the M ysian Olympus ! 



CHAP. IV.] 



THE TROAD. 



31 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Troad. 

Methley recovered almost suddenly, and we determined to go 
through the Troad together. 

My comrade was a capital Grecian ; it is true that his singu- 
lar mind so ordered and disposed the classic lore which he had 
gained, as to impress it with something of an original and bar- 
barous character — with an almost gothic quaintness, more 
properly belonging to a rich native ballad, than to the poetry of 
Hellas; there was a certain impropriety in his knowing so much 
Greek — an unfitness in the idea of marble fauns, and satyrs, 
and even Olympian Gods, lugged in under the oaken roof, and 
the painted light of an odd old Norman hall. But Methley 
abounding in Homer, really loved him (as I believe) in all 
truth, without whim or fancy ; moreover, he had a good deal of 
the practical sagacity, or sharpness, or whatever you call it 

" of a Yorkshireman hippodamoio," 

and this enabled him to apply his knowledge with much more 
tact than is usually shown by people so learned as he. 

I, too, loved Homer, but not with a scholar's love. The most 
humble and pious amongst women was yet so proud a mother 
that she could teach her first-born son, no Watts' hymns — no 
collects for the day ; she could teach him in earliest childhood, 
no less than this — to find a home in his saddle, and to love old 
Homer, and all that Homer sung. True it is, that the Greek 
was ingeniously rendered into English — the English of Pope 
even, but it is not such a mesh as that, that can screen an 
earnest child from the fire of Homer's battles. 

I pored over the Odyssey as over a story-book, hoping and 
fearing for the hero whom yet I partly scorned. But the Iliad — 



32 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. IV 



line by line, I clasped it to my brain with reverence as well as 
with love. As an old woman deeply trustful sits reading her 
Bible because of the world to come, so, as though it would fit 
me for the coming strife of this temporal world, I read, and read 
the Iliad. Even outwardly it was not like other books; it was 
throned in towering folios. There was a preface or dissertation 
printed in type still miore majestic than the rest of the book ; 
this I read, but not till my enthusiasm for the Iliad had already 
run high. The writer, compiling the opinions of many men, and 
chiefly of the ancients, set forth, I know not how quaintly, that 
the Iliad was all in all to the human race — that it was history — 
poetry — revelation— that the works of men's hands were folly 
and vanity, and would pass away like the dreams of a child, 
but that the kingdom of Homer would endure for ever and ever. 

I assented with all my soul. I read, and still read ; I came 
to know Homer. A learned commentator knows something of 
the Greeks, in the same sense as an oil-and-color-man may be 
said to know something of painting, but take an untamed child, 
and leave him alone for twelve months with any translation of 
Homer, and he will be nearer by twenty centuries to the spirit 
of old Greece ; he does not stop in the ninth year of the siege, 
to admire this or that group of words — lie has no books in his 
tent, but he shares in vital counsels with the King of men,'^ 
and knows the inmost souls of the impending Gods ; how pro- 
fanely he exults over the powers divine, when they are taught 
to dread the prowess of mortals ! and most of all how he rejoices 
when the God of War flies howling from the spear of Diomed, 
and mounts into Heaven for safety ! Then the beautiful episode 
of the 6th Book : the way to feel this is not to go casting about, 
and learning from pastors, and masters, how best to admire it ; 
the impatient child is n'ot grubbing for beauties, but pushing the 
siege ; the women vex him with their delays, and their talking 
—the mention of the nurse is personal, and little sympathy has 
he for the child that is young enough to be frightened at the 
nodding plume of a helmet, but all the while that he thus chafes 
at the pausing of the action, the strong vertical light of Homer's 
Poetry is blazing so full upon the people, and things of the Iliad, 
that soon to the eyes of the child, they grow familiar as his 



KHAP IV.] 



THE TROAD 



33 



mother's sh^wl ; yet of this great gain he is unconscious, and 
on he goes, vengefully thirsting for the best blood of Troy, and 
never remitting his fierceness, till almost suddenly it is changed 
for sorrow — the new and generous sorrow that he learns to feel, 
when the noblest of all his foes lies sadly dying at the Scsean 
gate. 

Heroic days were these, but the dark ages of school-boy life 
came closing over them. I suppose it's all right in the end, yet, 
by Jove, at first sight, it does seem a sad intellectual fall from 
your mother's dressing-room to a buzzing school. You feel so 
keenly the delights of early knowledge ; you form strange 
mystic friendships with the mere names of mountains, and seas, 
and continents, and mighty rivers ; you learn the ways of the 
planets, and transcend their narrow limits, and ask for the end 
of space ; you vex the electric cylinder till it yields you, for 
your toy to play w^th, that subtle fire in which our earth was 
forged ; you know of the nations that have towered high in the 
world, and the lives of the men who have saved whole Empires 
from oblivion. What more will you ever learn ? Yet the dis- 
mal change is ordained, and then, thin, meagre Latin (the same 
for everybody), with small shreds and patches of Greek, is 
thrown like a pauper's pall over all your early lore ; instead of 
sweet knowledge, vile, monkish doggerel grammars, and 
graduses. Dictionaries, and Lexicons, and horrible odds and 
ends of dead languages, are given you for your portion, and 
down you fall, from Roman story to a three inch scrap of 

Scriptores Romani," — from Greek poetry, down, down to the 
cold rations of'^Poetse Graeci," cut up by commentators, and 
served out by schoolmasters ! 

It was not the recollection of school, nor college learning, but 
the rapturous and earnest reading of my childhood which made 
me bend forward so longingly to the plains of Troy. 

Away from our people and our horses, Methley and I went 
loitering along, by the willowy banks of a stream that crept in 
quietness through the low, even plain. There was no stir of 
weather over-head — no sound of rural labor — no sign of life in 
the land, but all the earth was dead, and still, as though it had 



4 



34 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. IV. 



lain for thrice a thousand years under the leaden gloom of one 
unbroken sabbath. 

Softly and sadly the poor, dumb, patient stream went wind- 
ing, and winding along through its shifting pathway ; in some 
places its waters were parted, and then again, lower down, they 
would meet once more. I could see that the stream from year to 
year was finding itself new channels, and flowed no longer in 
its ancient track, but I knew that the springs which fed it were 
high on Ida — the springs of Simois and Scamander ! 

It was coldly, and thanklessly, and with vacant unsatisfied 
eyes that I watched the slow coming, and the gliding away of 
the waters ; I tell myself now, as a profane fact, that I did 
indeed stand by that river (Methley gathered some seeds from 
the bushes that grew there), but, since that I am away from 
his banks, divine Scamander " has recovered the proper 
mystery belonging to him, as an unseen deity ; a kind of indis- 
tinctness, like that which belongs to far antiquity, has spread 
itself over my memory, of the winding streams that I saw with 
these very eyes. One's mind regains in absence that dominion 
over earthly things which has been shaken by their rude contact ; 
you force yourself hardily into the material presence of a moun- 
tain, or a river, whose name belongs to poetry and ancient reli- 
gion, rather than to the external world ; your feelings wound up 
and kept ready for some sort of half-expected rapture are 
chilled, and borne down for the time under all this load of real 
earth and water ; but, let these once pass out of sight, and then 
again the old fanciful notions are restored, and the mere realities 
which you have just been looking at are thrown back so far into 
distance, that the very event of your intrusion upon such 
scenes begins to look dim, and uncertain as though it belonged 
to mythology. 

It is not over the plain before Troy that the river now flows ; 
its waters have edged away far towards the north, since the day 
that " divine Scamander " (whom the gods call Xanthus) went 
down to do battle for Ilion, with Mars, and Phoebus, and Latona, 
and Diana glorying in her arrows, and Venus the lover of 
smiles. 

And now, when I was vexed at the migration of Scamander^ 
and the total loss or absorption of poor dear Simois^ how happily 



CHAP. IV.] 



THE TROAD. 



36 



Methley reminded me that Homer himself had warned us of 
some such changes ! The Greeks, in beginning their wall, had 
leglected the hecatombs due to the gods ; and so, after the fall 
if Troy, Apollo turned the paths of the rivers that flow from 
(da, and sent them, flooding ovei the wall till all the beach was 
smooth, and free from the unhallowed works of the Greeks. It 
Ib true, I see now, on looking to the passage, that Neptune, 
when the work of destruction was done, turned back the rivers 
to their ancient ways : 

Ka/)' poov )iTT£p TpoaQsv isv KaWippoov vSojpj 

but their old channels passing through that light pervious soil 
would have been lost in the nine days' flood, and perhaps the 
god, when he willed to bring back the rivers to their ancient 
beds, may have done his work but ill ; it is easier, they say, to 
destroy than to restore. 

We took to our horses again, and w^ent southward towards 
the very plain between Troy and the tents of the Greeks, but we 
rode by a line at some distance from the shore. Whether it was 
that the lay of the ground hindered my view towards the sea, or 
that I was all intent upon Ida, or whether my mind was in 
vacancy, or whether, as is most like, I had strayed from the 
Dardan plains, all back to gentle England, there is now no 
knowing, nor caring, but it was — not quite suddenly indeed, but 
rather as it were, in the swelling and falling of a single wave, 
that the reality of that very sea-view, which had bounded the 
sight of the Greeks, now visibly acceded to me, and rolled full 
in upon my brain. Conceive how deeply that eternal coast-line 
— that fixed horizon — those island rocks must have graven their 
images upon the minds of the Grecian warriors by the time that 
they had reached the ninth year of the siege ! conceive the 
strength, and the fanciful beauty, of the speeches with which a 
whole army of imagining men must have told their weariness, 
and how the sauntering chiefs must have whelmed that daily, 
daily scene with their deep Ionian curses ! 

And now it was that my eyes were greeted with a delightful 
surprise. Whilst w^e were at Constantinople, Methley and I had 
pored over the map together ; we agreed that whatever may 



36 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. IV. 



have been the exact site of Troy, the Grecian camp must havo 
been nearly opposite to the space betwixt the islands of Imbrcs 
and Tenedos : — 

^scrc-rjyvs Tfj/f Joio kul Jfji0pov TranraXoeaaris I 

but Methley reminded me of a passage in the Iliad in which Jove 
is represented as looking at the scene of action before Ilion from 
above the Island of Samothrace. Now, Samothrace, according 
to the map, appeared to be not only out of all seeing distance 
from the Troad, but to be entirely shut out from it by the inter- 
vening Imbros, which is a larger island, stretching its length 
right athwart the line of sight from Samothrace to Troy. 
Piously allowing that the eagle-eye of Jove might have seen 
the strife even from his own Olympus, I still felt that if a station 
were to be chosen from which to see the fight, old Homer, so 
material in his ways of thought, so averse from all haziness and 
over-reaching, would have meant to give the Thunderer a sta- 
tion within the reach of men's eyes from the plains of Troy. 
I think that this testing of the poet's words by map and compass, 
may have shaken a little of my faith in the completeness of his 
knowledge. Well, now I had come ; there to the south was 
Tenedos, and here at my side was Imbros, all right, and 
according to the map, but aloft over Imbros — aloft in a far-away 
Heaven was Samothrace, the watch-tower of Jove ! 

So Homer had appointed it, and so it was ; the map was cor- 
rect enough, but could not, like Homer, convey the whole truth. 
Thus vain and false are the mere human surmises and doubts 
which clash with Homeric writ ! 

Nobody, vv^hose mind had not been reduced to the most de- 
plorably logical condition, could look upon this beautiful con- 
gruity betwixt the Iliad and the material world, and yet bear to 
suppose that the poet may have learned the features of the coast 
from mere hearsay ; now then, I believed — now I knew that 
Homer had passed along here — that this vision of Samothrace 
over-towering the nearer island was common to him and to me. 

After a journey of some few days by the route of Adramiti 
and Pergamo, we reached Smyrna. The letters which Methley 
here received obliged him to return to England. 



CHAP v.] 



INFIDEL SMYRNA. 



37 



CHAPTER V. 
Infidel Smyrna. 

Smyrna, or Giaour Izmir, as the Mussulmans call it, is the 
main point of commercial contact betwixt Europe and Asia ; 
you are there surrounded by the people, and the confused cus- 
toms of many, and various nations — you see the fussy European 
adopting the East, and calming his restlessness with the long 
Turkish pipe of tranquillity — you see Jews offering services, 
and receiving blows* — on one side you have a fellow whose 
dress and beard would give you a good idea of the true oriental, 
if it were not for the gobe-mouche expression of countenance 
with which he is swallowing an article in the National, and 
there, just by, is a genuine Osmanlee, smoking away with all 
.he majesty of a Sultan, but before you have time to admire 
sufficiently his tranquil dignity, and his soft Asiatic repose, the 
poor old fellow is ruthlessly " run down'' by an English mid- 
shipman, who has set sail on a Smyrna hack. Such are the 
incongruities of the " infidel city," at ordinary times ; but when 
I was there, our friend Carrigaholt had imported himself, and 
his oddities, as an accession to the other and inferior wonders 

* The Jews of Smyrna are poor, and having little merchandize of their 
own to dispose of, they are sadly importunate in offering their services as 
intermediaries ; their troublesome conduct has led to the custom of beating 
them in the open streets. It is usual for Europeans to carry long sticks with 
them for the express purpose of keeping off the chosen people. I always 
felt ashamed to strike the poor fellows myself, but I confess to the amuse- 
ment with which I witnessed the observance of this custom by other people ; 
the Jew seldom got hurt much, for he was always expecting the blow, and 
was ready to recede from it the moment it came ; one could not help being 
rather gratified at seeing him bound away so nimbly with his long robes 
floating out in the air, and then again wheel round, and return with fresh 
importunities 



EOIHEN. 



[chap. V- 



of Smyrna. I was sitting alone in my room one day at Con- 
stantinople, when I heard Methley approaching my door with 
shouts of laughter and welcome, and presently I recognized 
that peculiar cry by which our friend Carrigaholt expresses his 
emotions ; he soon explained to us the final causes by which the 
fates had worked out their wonderful purpose of bringing him 
to Constantinople. He was always, you know, very fond of 
sailing, but he had got into such sad scrapes (including I think 
a lawsuit) on account of his last yacht, that he took it into his 
head to have a cruise in a merchant vessel, so he went to Liver- 
pool, and looked through the craft lying ready to sail, till he 
found a smart schooner which perfectly suited his taste : the 
destination of the vessel was the last thing he thought of, and 
when he was told that she was bound for Constantinople, he 
merely assented to that as a part of the arrangement to which 
•he had no objection. When the vessel had sailed, the hapless 
passenger discovered that his skipper carried on board an enor- 
mous wife with an inquiring mind, and an irresistible tendency 
to impart her opinions. She looked upon her guest as upon a 
piece of waste intellect that ought to be carefully tilled. She 
tilled him accordingly. If the Dons at Oxford could have seen 
poor Carrigaholt thus absolutely " attending lectures" in the 
bay of Biscay, they would surely have thought him sufficiently 
punished for all the wrongs he did them, whilst he was preparing 
himself under their care for the other, and more boisterous 
University. The voyage did not last more than six or eight 
weeks, and the philosophy inflicted on Carrigaholt was not 
entirely fatal to him ; certainly he was somewhat emaciated, and 
for aught I know, he may have subscribed somewhat too largely 
to the " Feminine-right-of-reason Society but it did not appear 
that his health had teen seriously affected. There was a 
scheme on foot, it would seem, for taking the passenger back to 
England in the same schooner — a scheme, in fact, for keeping 
him perpetually afloat, and perpetually saturated with argu- 
ments ; but when Carrigaholt found himself ashore, and re- 
membered that the skipperina (who had imprudently remained 
on board), was not there to enforce her suggestions, he was open 
to the hints of his servant (a very sharp fellow), who arranged 



CHAP, v.] 



INFIDEL SMYRNA. 



39 



a plan for escaping, and finally brought off his master to Giu- 
seppini's Hotel, 

Our friend afterwards went by sea to Smyrna, and there he 
now was in his glory. He had a good, or at all events a gen- 
tleman-like judgment in matters of taste, and as his great object 
was to surround himself with all that his fancy could dictate, 
he lived in a state of perpetual negotiation ; he was for ever on 
the point of purchasing, not only the material productions of 
the place, but all sorts of such fine ware as intelligence," 
" fidelity," and so on. He was most curious, however, as a 
purchaser of the " affections." Sometimes he w^ould imagine 
that he had a marital aptitude, and his fancy would sketch a 
graceful picture, in which he appeared reclining on a divan, 
with a beautiful Greek woman fondly couched at his feet, and 
soothing him with the witchery of her guitar ; having satisfied 
himself with the ideal picture thus created, he would pass into 
action ; the guitar he would buy instantly, and would give such 
intimations of his wish to be wedded to a Greek, as could not 
fail to produce great excitement in the families of the beautiful 
Smyrniotes. Then again (and just in time perhaps to save him 
from the yoke), his dream would pass away, and another 
would come in its stead ; he would suddenly feel the yearnings 
of a father's love, and willing by force of gold to transcend all 
natural preliminaries, he would give instructions for the pur- 
chase of some dutiful child that could be v/arranted to love him 
as a parent. Then at another time he would be convinced that 
the attachment of menials might satisfy the longings of his 
affectionate heart, and thereupon he would give orders to his 
slave-merchant for something in the way of eternal fidelity. 
You may well imagine that this anxiety of Carrigaholt to pur- 
chase (not only the scenery) but the many dramatis persona, 
belonging to his dreams, with all their goodness, and graces 
complete, necessarily gave an immense stimulus to the trade 
and intrigue of Smyrna, and created a demand for human vir- 
tues which the moral resources of the place were totally inade- 
quate to supply. Every day after breakfast, this lover of the 
Good and the Beautiful held a levee, which was often exceedingly 
amusing ; in his ante-room, there would be not only the sellers 



40 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. v. 



of pipes, and slippers, and shawls, and such like Oriental mer- 
chandize; not only embroiderers, and cunning workmen patiently 
striving to realize his visions of Albanian dresses— not only the 
servants offering for places, and the slave-dealer tendering his 
sable ware, but there would be the Greek master, waiting to 
teach his pupil the grammar of the soft Ionian tongue, in which 
he was to delight the wife of his imagination, and the music- 
master who was to teach him some sweet replies to the antici- 
pated sounds of the fancied guitar ; and then above all, and 
proudly eminent with undisputed preference of entree, and 
fraught with the mysterious tidings on which the realization of 
the whole dream might depend, was the mysterious match- 
maker,* enticing, and postponing the suitor, yet ever keeping 
alive in his soul the love of that pictured virtue whose beauty 
(unseen by eyes) was half revealed to the Imagination. 

You would have thought that this practical dreaming must 
have soon brought Carrigaholt to a bad end, but he was in much 
less danger than you would suppose ; for besides that the new 
visions of happiness almost always came in time to counteract 
the fatal completion of the preceding scheme, his high breeding 
and his delicately sensitive taste almost always came to his aid, 
at times, when he was left without any other protection, and the 
efficacy of these qualities in keeping a man out of harm's way 
is really immense ; in all baseness and imposture there is a 
coarse, vulgar spirit, which, however artfully concealed for a 
time, must sooner or later show itself in some little circum- 
stance, sufficiently plain to occasion an instant jar upon the 
minds of those whose taste is lively and true ; to such men a shock 
of this kind disclosing the ugliness of a cheat, is more effec- 
tively convincing than any mere proofs could be. 

Thus guarded from isle to isle, and through Greece, and 
through Albania, this practical Plato, with a purse in his hand, 
carried on his mad chase after the Good and the Beautiful, and 
yet returned in safety to his home. But now, poor fellow ! the 
lowly grave, that is the end of men's romantic hopes, has closed 

* Marriages in the East are arranged by professed match-makers; many 
of these, I believe, are Jewesses. 



CHAP, v.] 



INFIDEL SMYRNA. 



41 



over all his rich fancies, and all his high aspirations ; he is 
utterly married ! No more hope, no more change for him — no 
more relays — he must go on Vetturini-wise to the appointed end 
of his journey ! 

Smyrna, I think, may be called the chief town and capital of 
the Grecian race, against which you will be cautioned so care- 
fully as soon as you touch the Levant. You will say that I 
ought not to confound as one people the Greeks living under a 
constitutional government, with the unfortunate Rayahs who 

groan under the Turkish yoke but I can't see that political 
events have hitherto produced any strongly marked difference 
of character. If I could venture to rely (which I feel that I 
cannot at all do) upon my own observation, I should tell you 
that there was more heartiness and strength in the Greeks of 
the Ottoman Empire than in those of the new kingdom — the 
truth is, that there is a greater field for commercial enterprise, 
and even for Greek ambitions, under the Ottoman sceptre, than 
is to be found in the dominions of Otho. Indeed the people, by 
their frequent migrations from the limits of the constitutional 
kingdom, to the territories of the Porte, seem to show, that, on 
the whole, they prefer ''groaning under the Turkish yoke," to 
the honor of '' being the only true source of legitimate power," 
in their own land. 

For myself, I love the race ; in spite of all their vices, and 
even in spite of all their meannesses, I remember the blood that 
is in them, and still love the Greeks. The Osmanlees are, of 
course, by nature, by religion, and by politics, the strong foes 
of the Hellenic people, and as the Greeks, poor fellows ! happen 
to be a little deficient in some of the virtues which facilitate 
the transaction of commercial business (such as veracity, fidel- 
ity, &c.), it naturally follows that they are highly unpopular 
with the European merchants. Now, these are the persons 
through whom, either directly or indirectly, is derived the 
greater part of the information which you gather in the Levant, 
and therefore you must make up your mind to hear an almost 
universal and unbroken testimony against the character of the 
people, whose ancestors invented Virtue. And strange to say, 
the Greeks themselves do not attempt tc disturb this general una- 



42 



EOTHEN. 



[CHA.F. V 



nimity of opinion by any dissent on their part. Question a 
Greek on the subject, and he will tell you at once that the peo- 
ple are "traditori," and will then, perhaps, endeavor to shake off 
his fair share of the imputation, by asserting that his father had 
been dragoman to some foreign embassy, and that he (the son), 
therefore, by the law of nations, had ceased to be Greek. 

"E dunque no siete traditore ?" 
Possibile, Signer, ma almeno lo no sono Greco." 

Not even the diplomatic representatives of the Hellenic king- 
dom are free from the habit of depreciating their brethren. I 
recollect, that at one of the ports in Syria, a Greek vessel was 
rather unfairly kept in quarantine by order of the Board of 
Health, which consisted entirely of Europeans. A consular 
agent from the kingdom of Greece had lately hoisted his flag in 
the town, and the captain of the vessel drew up a remonstrance, 
v^hich he requested his consul to present to the Board. 

" Now, is this reasonable ?" said the consul, is it reasonable 
that I should place myself in collision with all the principal 
European gentlemen of the place for the sake of you, a Greek ?" 
The skipper was greatly vexed at the failure of his application, 
but he scarcely even questioned the justice of the ground which 
his consul had taken. Well, it happened some time afterwards, 
that I found myself at the same port, having gone thither with 
the view of embarking for the port of Syra. I was anxious of 
course to elude as carefully as possible the quarantine detention 
which threatened me on my arrival, and hearing that the Greek 
consul had a brother who was a man in authority at Syra, I got 
myself presented to the former, and took the liberty of asking 
him to give me such a letter of introduction to his relative at 
Syra, as might possibly have the effect of shortening the term 
of my quarantine, he acceded to this request with the utmost 
kindness and courtesy ; but when he replied to my thanks by 
saying that in serving an Englishman he was doing no more 
than his strict duty commanded," not even my gratitude could 
preTent me from calling to mind his treatment of the poor cap- 
tain who had the misfortune of not being alien in blood to .lis 
consul, and appointed protector. 

I think that the change which has taken place in the charac- 



CHAP, v.] 



INFIDEL SMYRNA. 



43 



ter of the G.reeks has been occasioned, in great measure, by the 
doctrines and practice of their religion. The Greek Church has 
animated the Muscovite peasant, and inspired him with hopes 
and ideas, which, however humble, are still better than none 
at all ; but the faith, and the forms, and the strange ecclesiasti- 
cal literature which act so advantageously upon the mere 
clay of the Russian serf, seem to hang like lead upon the 
ethereal spirit of the Greek. Never, in any part of the world, 
have I seen religious performances so painful to witness as those 
of the Greeks. The horror, however, with which one shudders 
at their worship is attributable, in some measure, to the mere 
effect of costume. In all the Ottoman dominions, and very fre- 
quently too, in the Kingdom of Otho, the Greeks wear turbans, 
or other head-dresses, and shave their heads, leaving only a 
rat's-tail at the crown of the head ; they of course keep them- 
selves covered within doors, as well as abroad, and never remove 
their head-gear, merely on account of being in a church : but 
when the Greek stops to worship at his proper shrine, then, and 
then only, he always uncovers ; and as you see him thus with 
shaven skull, and savage tail pending from his crown, kissing a 
thing of wood and glass, and cringing with base prostrations, 
and apparent terror, before a miserable picture, you see super- 
stition in a shape, which, outwardly at least, looks sadly abject 
and repulsive. 

« # # « 

* * * * 

* ♦ * * 

* * * * 

The fasts, too, of the Greek Church, produce an ill effect upon 
the character of the people, for they are carried to such an ex- 
tent, as to bring about a bona fide mortification of the flesh ; the 
febrile irritation of the frame operating in conjunction with the 
depression of spirits occasioned by abstinence, will so far answer 



44 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. V 



the objects of the rite, as to engender some religious excitement, 
but this is of a morbid and gloomy character, and it seems tc 
be certain, that along with the increase of sanctity, there comes 
a fiercer desire for the perpetration of dark crimes. The num- 
ber of murders committed during Lent is greater, I am told, 
than at any other time of the year. A man under the influence 
of a bean dietary (for this is the principal food of the Greeks 
during their fasts), will be in an apt humor for enriching the 
shrine of his Saint, and passing a knife through his next door 
neighbor. The moneys deposited upon the shrines are appro- 
priated by priests ; the priests are married men, and have fami- 
lies to provide for : they take the good with the bad," and con- 
tinue to recommend fasts. 

Then, too, the Greek Church enjoins her followers to keep 
holy such a vast number of Saints' days, as practically to 
shorten the lives of the people very materially. 1 believe that 
one-third of the number of days in the year are kept holy," 
or rather, kejyt stupid, in honor of the Saints : no great portion 
of the time thus set apart is spent in religious exercises, and the 
people don't betake themselves to any animating pastimes, 
which might serve to strengthen the frame, or invigorate the 
mind, or exalt the taste. On the contrary, the Saints' days of 
the Greeks in Smyrna, are passed in the same manner as the 
Sabbaths of well-behaved Protestant housemaids in London — 
that is to say, in a steady and serious contemplation of street 
scenery. The men perform this duty at the doors of their 
houses, — the women at the ivindows, which the custom of Greek 
towns has so decidedly appropriated to them as the proper station 
of their sex, that a man would be looked upon as utterly effemi- 
nate if he ventured to choose that situation for the keeping of 
tlie Saints' days. I was present one day at a treaty for the hire 
of some apartments at Smyrna, which was carried on between 
Carrigaholt, and the Greek woman to whom the rooms belonged. 
Carrigaholt objected that the windows commanded no view of 
the street ; immediately the brow of the majestic matron was 
clouded, and with all the scorn of a Spartan mother, she coolly 
asked Carrigaholt and said, Art thou a tender damsel that 
thou wouldst sit, and gaze from windows?" The man whom 



CHAP, v.] 



INFIDEL SMYRNA. 



45 



she addressed, however, had not gone to Greece with any 
intention of placing himself under the laws of Lycurgus, and 
was not to be diverted from his views by a Spartan rebuke, so 
he took care to find himself windows after his own heart, and 
there, I believe, for many a month, he kept the Saints' days, 
and all the days intervening, after the fashion of Grecian 
women. 

Oh ! let me be charitable to all who write, and to all who 
lecture, and to all who preach, since even I, a lay-man not 
forced to write at all, can hardly avoid chiming in w^ith some 
tuneful cant ! I have had the heart to talk about the pernicious 
effects of the Greek holidays, to which I owe some of my most 
beautiful visions ! I will let the words stand, as an humbling 
proof that I am subject to that immutable law which compels a 
man with a pen in his hand to be uttering every now^ and then 
some sentiment not his own. It seems as though the power of 
expressing regrets and desires by written symbols were coupled 
with a condition that the writer should from time to time express 
the regrets and desires of other people — as though, like a French 
peasant under the old regime, one were bound to perform a cer- 
tain amount of work upon the public highways. I rebel as 
stoutly as I can against this horrible corvee — I try not to deceive 
you — I try to set down the thoughts which are fresh within me, 
and not to pretend any wishes, or griefs, wliich I do not really 
feel, but no sooner do I cease from w^atchfulness in this regard, 
than my right hand is, as it w^ere, seized by some false demon, 
and even now, you see, I have been forced to put down such 
words and sentences as I ought to have written if really and 
truly I had wished to disturb the Saints' days of the beautiful 
Smyrniotes ! 

Which, Heaven forbid ! for as you move through the narrow 
streets of the city, at these times of festival, the transom-shaped 
windows suspended over your head, on either side, are filled 
with the beautiful descendants of the old Ionian race ; all (even 
yonder Empress that sits throned at the window of that humblest 
mud cottage) are attired with seeming magnificence ; their 
classic heads are crowned with scarlet, and loaded with jewels, 



46 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. V 



or coins of gold — the whole wealth of the wearers;* — their 
features are touched with a savage pencil, which hardens the 
outline of eyes and eye-brows, and lends an unnatural fire to 
the stern, grave looks, with which they pierce your brain. 
Endure their fiery eyes as best you may, and ride on slowly 
and reverently, for facing you from the side of the transom, that 
looks long-wise through the street, you see the one glorious 
shape transcendant in its beauty ; you see the massive braid of 
hair as it catches a touch of light on its jetty surface — and the 
broad, calm, angry brow — the large black eyes, deep set, and 
self-relying like the eyes of a conqueror, with their rich shadows 
of thought lying darkly around them, — you see the thin fiery 
nostril, and the bold line of the chin and throat disclosing all 
the fierceness, and all the pride, passion, and power, that can 
live along with the rare womanly beauty of those sweetly 
turned lips. But then there is a terrible stillness in this breath- 
ing image ; it seems like the stillness of a savage that sits in- 
tent, and brooding day by day, upon some one fearful scheme 
of vengeance, but yet more like it seems to the stillness of an 
Immortal, whose will must be known, and obeyed without sign 
or speech. Bow down ! — Bow down, and adore the young 
Persephone, transcendant Queen of Shades ! 

* A Greek woman wears her whole fortune upon her person, in the shape 
of jewels, or gold coins ; I believe that this mode of investment is adopted 
in great measure for safety's sake. It has the advantage of enabling a suitor 
to reckon i as well as to admire the objects of his alfection. 



CHAP. VI.] 



GREEK MARINERS 



47 



CHAPTER VI. 

Greek Mariners. 

I SAILED from Smyrna in the Amphitrite, a Greek brigantine, 
which was confidently said to be bound for the coast of Syria, 
but I knew that this announcement was not to be relied upon 
with positive certainty, for the Greek mariners are practically 
free from the stringency of ship's papers, and where they will, 
there they go. However, I had the whole of the cabin for my- 
self, and my attendant, Mysseri, subject only to the society of 
the Captain at the hour of dinner ; being at ease in this respect, 
being furnished too with plenty of books, and finding an unfail- 
ing source of interest in the thorough Greekness of my Captain 
and my crew, I felt less anxious than most people would have 
been about the probable length of the cruise ; I knew enough of 
Greek navigation to be sure that our vessel would cling to Earth 
like a child to its mother's knee, and that I should touch at many 
an isle before 1 set foot upon the Syrian coast ; but I had no 
invidious preference for Europe, Asia, or Africa, and I felt that 
I could defy the winds to blow me upon a coast that was blank, 
and void of interest. My patience was extremely useful to me, 
for the cruise altogether endured some forty days, and that in 
the midst of winter. 

According to me, the most interesting of all the Greeks (male 
Greeks) are the mariners, because their pursuits and their so- 
cial condition are so nearly the same as those of their glorious 
ancestors ; you will say, that the occupation of commerce must 
have smoothed down the salience of their minds, and this would 
be so perhaps, if their mercantile affairs were conducted accord- 
ing to the fixed business-like routine of Europeans ; but the 
ventures of the Greeks are surrounded by such a multitude of 
imagined dangers, and (from the absence of regular marts in 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VI 



which the true value of merchandize can be ascertained) are 
so entirely speculative, and besides, are conducted in a manner 
so wholly determined upon by the wayward fancies and wishes 
of the crew, that they belong to Enterprise, rather than to in- 
dustry, and are very far indeed from tending to deaden any 
freshness of character. 

The vessels in which war and piracy were carried on during 
the years of the Greek Revolution, became merchantmen at the 
end of the war — but the tactics of the Greeks, as naval war- 
riors, were so exceedingly cautious, and their habits, as commer- 
cial mariners, are so wild, that the change has been more slight 
than you might imagine. The first care of Greeks (Greek 
Rayahs) when they undertake a shipping enterprise, is to pro- 
cure for their vessel the protection of some European Power ; 
this is easily managed by a little intriguing with the Dragoman 
of one of the Embassies at Constantinople, and the craft soon 
glories in the ensign of Russia, or the dazzling Tricolor, or the 
Union Jack ; thus, to the great delight of her crew, she enters 
upon the ocean world with a flaring lie at her peak, but the 
appearance of the vessel does no discredit to the borrowed flag ; 
she is frailer, perhaps, than the rest of her sex, but she does not 
look the worse for this in harbor ; she is gracefully built, and 
smartly rigged ; she always carries guns, and in short, gives 
good promise of mischief and speed. 

The privileges attached to the vessel and her crew, by virtue 
of the borrowed flag, are so great as to imply a degree of liberty, 
greater than that which is enjoyed by individuals in our more 
strictly civilized countries, so that there is no pretence for say- 
ing that the development of the true character belonging to 
Greek mariners is prevented by the dominion of the Ottomans ; 
they are free, too, from the power of the great capitalist whose 
imperial sway is more withering than despotism itself, to the 
enterprises of humble venturers. The capital employed is 
supplied by those whose labor is to render it productive ; the 
crew receive no wages, but have all a share in the venture, and 
in general, I believe, they are the owners of the whole freight ; 
they choose a Captain to whom they entrust just power enough 
to keep the vessel on her course in fine v/eather, but not quite 



CHAP. VI.] 



GREEK MARINERS. 



49 



enough for a gale of wind ; they also elect a cook and a mate ; 
the cook whom we had on board was particularly careful about 
the ship's reckoning, and v/hen, under the influence of the keen 
sea breezes, we grew fondly expectant of an instant dinner, the 
great author of pilafs would be standing on deck with an ancient 
quadrant in his hands, calmly affecting to take an observation. 
But then to make up for this, the Captain would be exercising a 
controlling influence over the soup, so that all, in the end, went 
well. Our mate was a Hydriot, a native of that island rock 
which grows nothing but mariners and mariners' wives. His 
character seemed to be exactly that which is generally attribut- 
ed to the Hydriot race ; he was fierce, and gloomy, and lonely 
in his ways. One of his principal duties seemed to be that of 
acting as counter-captain, or leader of the opposition, denounc- 
ing the first symptoms of tyranny, and protecting even the cabin- 
boy from oppression. — Besides this, when things went smoothly, 
he would begin to prognosticate evil, in order that his more light- 
hearted comrades might not be pufled up with the seeming good 
fortune of the moment. 

It seemed to me that the personal freedom of these sailors, 
who own no superiors except those of their own choice, is as like 
as may be to that of their sea-faring ancestors. And even in 
their mode of navigation they have admitted no such an entij'e 
change as you would suppose probable ; it is true that they have 
so far availed themselves of modern discoveries as to look to the 
compass instead of the stars, and that they have superseded the 
immortal Gods of their forefathers by St. Nicholas in his glass 
case,* but they are not yet so confident either in their needle or 
their Saint, as to love an open sea, and they still hug their 
shores as fondly as the Argonauts of old. Indeed, they have a 
most unsailorlike love for the land, and I really believe that in a 
gale of wind they would rather have a rock-bound coast on their 
lee, than no coast at all. According to the notions of an Eng- 
lish seaman, this kind of navigation would soon bring the vessel 

* St. Nicholas is the great patron of Greek sailors ; a small picture of 

him enclosed in a glass case is hiinfr up like a barometer at one end of the 
, . ^ or ^ 

cabin. 



5 



EOTHEN. 



[chap vi 



on which it might be practised, to an evil end. The Greek> 
however, is unaccountably successful in escaping the conse- 
quences of being ''jammed in," as it is called, upon a lee 
shore ; he is favored, I suppose, by the nature of the coasts along 
which he sails, especially those of the many islands through 
which he threads his way in the iEgean, for there is gene- 
rally, I think, deep water home to the very cliffs, and besides 
there are innumerable coves in which the dexterous sailor, 
who knows and loves the land so well, will contrive to find a 
shelter. 

These seamen, like their forefathers, rely upon no winds 
unless they are right a-stern, or on the quarter ; they rarely go 
on a wind if it blows at all fresh, and if the adverse breeze ap- 
proaches to a gale, they at once fumigate St. Nicholas, and put 
up the helm. The consequence, of course, is, that under the 
ever-varying winds of the JEgean they are blown about in the 
most whimsical manner. I used to think that Ulysses, with his 
ten years' voyage, had taken his time in making Ithaca, but my 
experience in Greek navigation soon made me understand that 
he had had, in point of fact, a pretty good " average passage." 

Such are now the mariners of the iEgean ; free, equal 
amongst themselves, navigating the seas of their forefathers with 
the same heroic, and yet child-like spirit of venture, the same 
half-trustfal reliance upon heavenly aid, they are the liveliest 
images of true old Greeks that time and th? new religions have 
spared to us. 

With one exception, our crew were " a solemn company,"* 
and yet, sometimes, when all things went well, they would relax 
their austerity, and show a disposition to fun, or rather to quiet 
humor ; when this, happened, they invariably had recourse to 
one of their number, who went by the name of "Admiral 
Nicolou ;" he was an amusing fellow, the poorest, I believe, 
and the least thoughtful of the crew, but full of rich humor 
his oft-told story of the events by which he had gained the 
sobriquet of "Admiral," never failed to delight his hearers, and 
when he was desired to repeat it for my benefit, the rest of the 



* Hanmer, 



CKAP. VI.] 



GREEK MARINERS. 



51 



crew crowded round with as much interest as if they were 
listening to the tale for the first time. A number of Greek 
brigs and brigantines were at anchor in the bay of Beyrout ; a 
festival of some kind, particularly attractive to the sailors, was 
going on in the town, and whether with or v/ithout leave I know 
not, but the crews of all the craft, except that of Nicolou, had 
gone ashore ; on board his vessel, however, which carried dol- 
lars, there was, it would seem, a more careful, or more influen- 
tial Captain, who was able to enforce his determination, that one 
man, at least, should be left on board. Nicolou's good nature 
was with him so powerful an impulse, that he could not resist 
the delight of volunteering to stay with the vessel, whilst his 
comrades went ashore ; his proposal was accepted, and the 
crew and Captain soon left him alone on the deck of his vessel. 
The sailors, gathering together from their several ships, were 
amusing themselves in the town, w^hen suddenly there came 
down from betwixt the mountains, one of those sudden hurricanes 
which sometimes occur in southern climes ; Nicolou's vessel, 
together with four of the craft which had been left unmanned, 
broke from her moorings, and all five of the vessels were car- 
ried out seaward ; the town is on a salient point at the southern 
side of the Bay, so that " the Admiral " was close under the 
eyes of the inhabitants, and the shore-gone sailors, when he gal- 
lantly drifted out at the head of his little fleet ; if Nicolou 
could not entirely control the manoeuvres of the Squadron, 
there was at least no human power to divide his authority, and 
thus it was that he took rank as Admiral." Nicolou cut his 
cable, and thus for the time saved his vessel ; for the rest of the 
fleet, under his command, were quickly wrecked, whilst '^the 
Admiral " got away clear to the open sea. The violence cf the 
squall soon passed off, but Nicolou felt that his chance of one 
day resigning his high duties as an admiral for the enjoyments 
of private life on the steadfast shore, mainly depended upon his 
success in working the brig with his own hands, so after calling 
on his namesake, the saint (not for the flrst time, I take it), he 
got up some canvass, and took the helm ; he became equal, he 
told us, to a score of Nicolous, and the vessel, as he said, was 
" planned v\dth his terrors.'^ For two days, it seemsj he cruised 



52 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VI 



at large, but at last, either by his seamanship, or by the natural 
instinct of the Greek mariners for finding land, he brought his 
craft close to an unknown shore, which promised well for his 
purpose of running in the vessel, and he was preparing to give 
her a good berth on the beach, when he saw a gang of ferocious 
looking fellows coming down to the point for which he was 
making. Poor Nicolou was a perfectly unlettered and untutored 
genius, and for that reason, perhaps, a keen listener to tales of 
terror ; his mind had been impressed with some horrible legend 
of cannibalism, and he now did not doubt for a moment that the 
men awaiting him on the beach were the monsters at whom he 
had shuddered in the days of his childhood. The coast on which 
Nicolou was running his vessel, was somewhere, I fancy, at the 
foot of the Anzairie mountains, and the fellows who were pre- 
paring to give him a reception were probably very rough speci- 
mens of humanity ; it is likely enough that they may have given 
themselves the trouble of putting the Admiral to death, for 
the purpose of simplifying their claim to the vessel, and pre- 
ventino; litio-ation, but the notion of their cannibalism was of 
course utterly unfounded; JNicolou's terror had, however, so 
graven the idea on his mind, that he could never afterwards 
dismiss it. Having once determined the character of his expec- 
tant hosts, the Admiral naturally thought that it would be better 
to keep their dinner waiting any length of time, than to attend 
their feast in the character of a roasted Greek, so he put about 
his vessel, and tempted the deep once more. After a farther 
cruise the lonely commander ran his vessel upon some rocks at 
another part of the coast, where she was lost with all her treasure, 
and Nicolou was but too glad to scramble ashore, though without 
one dollar in his girdle. These adventures seem flat enough as I 
repeat them, but the hero expressed his terrors by such odd terms 
of speech, and such strangely humorous gestures, that the story 
came from his lips with an unfailing zest, so that the crew who had 
heard the tale so often, could still enjoy to their hearts the rich 
fright of the Admiral, and still shuddered with unabated horror 
when he came to the loss of the dollars. 

The power of listening to long stories (for which by the bye I 
am giving you large credit) is common 1 fancy to most sailors, 



CHAP. VI.] 



GREEK MARINERS. 



53 



and the Greeks have it to a great degree, for they can be per- 
fectly patient under a narrative of two or three hours' duration. 
These long stories are mostly founded upon Oriental topics, and 
in one of them I recognized with some alterations an old friend 
of the " Arabian Nights ; I inquired as to the source from 
which the story had been derived, and the crew all agreed that 
it had been handed down unv/ritten from Greek to Greek ; their 
account of the matter does not, perhaps, go very far towards 
showing the real origin of the tale, but when I afterwards took 
up the "Arabian Nights," I became strongly imipressed v/ith a 
notion that they must have sprung from the brain of a Greek. 
It seems to me that these stories, whilst they disclose a complete 
and habitual knowledge of things Asiatic, have about them so 
much of freshness and life, so niuch of the stirring and volatile 
European character, that they cannot have owed their concep- 
tion to a mere Oriental, who, for creative purposes, is a thing 
dead and dry — a mental mummy that may have been a live 
King just after the flood, but has since lain balmed in spice. At 
the time of the Caliphat the Greek race was familiar enough to 
Bagdad ; they were the merchants, the pedlars, the barbers, and 
intriguers-general of South-western Asia, and therefore the 
Oriental materials with v/hich the Arabian tales are wrought, 
must have been completely at the command of the inventive 
people to whom I would attribute their origin. 

We were nearing the isle of Cyprus, when there arose half a 
gale of wind, with a heavy, chopping sea ; my Greek seam.en 
considered that the weather amounted not to a half, but to an 
integral gale of v/ind at the very least, so they put up the helm, 
and scudded for twenty hours ; when we neared the main land 
of Anadoli, the gale ceased, and a favorable breeze sprang up, 
which brought us off Cyprus once more. Afterwards the wind 
changed again, but we were still able to lay our course by sail- 
ing close-hauled. 

We were, at length, in such a position, that by holding on our 
course for about half an hour, we should get under the lee of 
the island, and find ourselves in smooth water, but the wind had 
been gradually freshening ; it nd w blew hard, and there was a 
heavy sea running. 



54 



EOTHEX. 



[chap. VI 



As the grounds for alarm arose, the crew gathered together in 
one close group ; they stood pale and grim under their hooded 
capotes like monks awaitir:g a massacre, anxiously looking by 
turns along the pathway of the storm, and then upon each other, 
and then upon the eye of the Captain who stood by the helms- 
man. Presently the Hydriot came aft, more moody than ever, 
the bearer of fierce remonstrance against the continuing of 
the struggle ; he received a resolute answer, and still we held 
our course. Soon there came a heavy sea, that caught the bow 
of the brigantine as she lay jammed in betwixt the waves; she 
bowed her head low under the waters, and shuddered through 
all her timbers — then gallantly stood up again over the striving 
sea, with bowsprit entire. But where were the crew ? It was 
a crew no longer, but rather a gathering of Greek citizens ; — 
the shout of the seaman was changed for the murmuring of the 
people — the spirit of the old Demos was alive. The men cam^e 
aft in a body, and loudly asked that the vessel should be put 
about, and that the storm be no longer tempted. Now, then, for 
speeches : — the Captain, his eyes flashing fire, his frame all 
quivering with emotion — wielding his every limb, like another, 
and a louder voice, pours forth the eloquent torrent of his 
threats, and his reasons, his commands, and his prayers ; he 
promises — he vows — he swears that there is safety in holding 
on— safety, if Greeks will he hrave ! The men hear, and are 
moved, but the gale rouses itself once more, and again the 
raging sea comes trampling over the timbers that are the life of 
all. The fierce Hydriot advances one step more near to the 
Captain, and the angry growl of the people goes floating down 
the wind, but they listen — they waver once more, and once more 
resolve, then waver .again, thus doubtfully hanging between the 
terrors of the storm, and the persuasion of glorious speech, as 
though it were the Athenian that talked, and Philip of Macedon 
that thundered on the weather bow. 

Brave thoughts winged on Grecian words gained their natural 
mastery over Terror ; the brigantine held on her course, and 
reached smooth water at last. I landed at Limesol, the west- 
ernmost port of Cyprus, leaving the vessel to sail for Larnecca, 
where she was to remain for some days. 



CHAP VII.] 



CYPRUS. 



55 



CHAPTER VII. 
Cyprus. 

There as a Greek at Limesol, who hoisted his flag as an Eng- 
lish Vice-Consul, and he insisted upon my accepting his hospi- 
tality ; with some difficulty, and chiefly by assuring him that I 
could not delay my departure beyond an early hour in the after- 
noon, I induced him to allow my dining with his family, instead 
of banqueting all alone with the representative of my sovereign, 
in consular state and dignity ; the lady of the house, it seemed, 
had never sat at table with an European ; she was very shy 
about the matter, and tried hard to get out of the scrape, but 
the husband, I fancy, reminded her, that she was theoretically 
an English-woman by virtue of the flag which waved over her 
roof, and that she was bound to show her nationality by sitting 
at meat with me ; finding herself inexorably condemned to bear 
with the dreaded gaze of European eyes, she tried to save her 
innocent children from the hard fate which awaited herself, but 
I obtained that all of them (and I think there were four or five) 
should sit at the table. You will meet with abundance of stately 
receptions, and of generous hospitality, too, in the East, but 
rarely, very rarely in those regions (or even, so far as I know, 
in any part of southern Europe), does one gain an opportunity 
of seeing the familiar and indoor life of the people. 

This family party of the good consul's (or rather of mine, 
for I originated the idea, though he furnished the materials) 
went off* very well ; the mamma was shy at first, but she veiled 
the awkwardness which she felt by affecting to scold her chil- 
dren, who had all of them, I think, immortal names — names, 
too, which they owed to tradition, and certainly not to any clas- 
sical enthusiasm of their parents ; every instant I was delighted 
by some such phrases as these—" Themistocles, my love, don't 



56 



EOTHEN 



[chap. VII 



fight/' — Alcibiades, can't you sit still Socrates, put 

down the cup." — " Oh, fie ! Aspasia, don't. Oh ! don't be 
naughty !" It is true that the names were pronounced, Socrahtie, 
Aspahsie — that is, according to accent, and not according to 
quantity, but I suppose it is scarcely now to be doubted that they 
were so sounded in ancient times. 

To me it seem.s, that of all the lands I know (you will see in 
a minute how I connect this piece of prose with the Isle of Cy- 
prus), there is none in which mere wealth — mere unaided 
wealth, is held half so cheaply — none in which a poor devil of 
a millionaire without birth, or ability, occupies so humble a 
place as in England. My Greek host and I were sitting to- 
gether, I think upon the roof of the house (for that is the loung- 
ing place in Eastern climes), when the former assumed a seri- 
ous air, and intimated a wish to converse upon the subject o\ 
the British Constitution, with which he assured me that he was 
thoroughly acquainted ; he presently, however, informed me 
that there was one anomalous circumstance attendant upon the 
practical working of our political system which he had never 
been able to hear explained in a manner satisfactory to him- 
self. From the fact of his having found a difficulty in his sub- 
ject, I began to think that my host might really know rather 
more of it than his announcement of a thorough knowledge had 
led me to expect ; I felt interested at being about to hear from 
the lips of an intelligent Greek, quite remote from the influence 
of European opinions, what might seem to him the most aston- 
ishing and incomprehensible of all those results which have 
followed from the action of our political institutions. The ano 
maly — the only anomaly which had been detected by the vice- 
consular wisdom, consisted in the fact, that Roths-child (the late 
money-monger) had never been the Prime Minister of England ! 
I gravely tried to throw some light upon the mysterious causes 
which had kept the worthy Israelite out of the Cabinet, but I 
think I could see that my explanation w^as not satisfactory. Ga 
and argue with the flies of summer, that there is a Power divine, 
yet greater than the Sun in the heavens, but never dare hope to 
convince the people of the South that there is any other God 
than Gold. 



CHAP. VII.] 



CYPRUS. 



My intended journey was to the site of the Paphian temple. 
I take no antiquarian interest in ruins, and care little about 
them, unless they are either striking in themselves, or else 
serve to nfark some spot on which my fancy loves to dwell. I 
knew that the ruins of Paphos were scarcely, if at all, discerni- 
ble, but there was a will, and a longing, more imperious than 
mere curiosity, that drove me thither. 

For this, just then, was my Pagan soul's desire — that (not 
forfeiting my Christian's inheritance for the life to come), it 
were yet given m.e to live through this w^orld — to live a favored 
mortal under the old Olympian dispensation — to speak out my 
resolves to the listening Jove and hear him answer with ap- 
proving thunder — to be blessed with divine counsels from the 
lips of Pallas Athenie — to believe — aye, only to believe — to 
believe for one rapturous moment that in the gloomy depths of 
the grove, by the mountain's side, there were some leafy path- 
way that crisped beneath the glowing sandal of Aphrodetie — 
Aphrodetie, not coldly disdainful of even a mortal's love ! And 
this vain, heathenish longing of mine was father to the thought 
of visiting the scene of the ancient worship. 

The isle is beautiful ; from the edge of the rich, flowery fields 
on which I trod, to the midway sides of the snowy Olymipus, the 
ground could only here and there show an abrupt crag, or a 
high, straggling ridge, that up-shouldered itself from out of the 
wilderness of myrtles, and of the thousand bright-leaved shrubs 
that twined their arms together in lovesome tangles. The air 
that came to my lips was warm, and fragrant as the ambrosial 
breath of the goddess, infecting me — not (of course) with a 
faith of the old religion of the isle, but with a sense, and appre- 
hension of its mystic power — a power that was still to be obeyed 
— obeyed by me, for why crtherwise did I toil on with sorry 
horses to " where, for HER, the hundred altars glowed with 
Arabian incense, and breathed with the fragrance of garlands 
ever fresh ?"* 

* . , ubi templum illi, centumque Sabaeo 
Thure "talent arse, sertisque reosntibus halant. 

JEneid i., 415 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. vn. 



I passed a sadly disenchanting nigh in the cabin of a Greek 
priest^ — not a priest of the Goddess but of the Greek church — 
there was but one humble room, or rather shed, for man, and 
priest, and beast. The next morning I reached Baffa*(Paphos), 
which is not far distant from the site of the temple ; there was 
a Greek husbandman there who (not for employment, but for the 
sake of the protection and dignity which it afforded) had got 
leave from the man at Limesol to hoist his flag as a sort of 
Deputy-provisionary-sub-vice-pro-acting Pro-consul of the Brit- 
ish Sovereign ; the poor fellow instantly changed his Greek 
head-gear for the cap of consular dignity, and insisted upon 
accompanying me to the ruins ; I would not have stood this, if 
I could have felt the faintest gleam of my yesterday's pagan 
piety, but I had ceased to dream, and had nothing to dread from 
any new disenchanters. 

The ruins (the fragments of one or two prostrate pillars) stand 
upon a promontory, bare, and unmystified by the gloom of sur- 
rounding groves ; my Greek friend in his consular-cap stood by, 
respectfully waiting to see what turn my madness would take, 
now that I had come at last into the presence of the old stones. 
If you have no taste for research, and can't affect to look for 
inscriptions, there is some awkwardness in coming to the end of 
a merely sentimental pilgrimage, when the feeling, which im- 
pelled you, has gone ; you have nothing to do but to laugh the 
thing off as well as you can, and by the by, it is not a bad plan 
to turn the conversation (or rather allow the natives to turn it) 
towards the subject of hidden treasures ; this is a topic on which 
they will always speak with eagerness, and if they can fancy 
that you, too, take an interest in such matters, they will not 
only think you perfectly sane, but will begin to give you credit 
for some more than human powers ©f forcing the obscure earth 
to show you its hoards of gold. 

When we returned to BafFa, the Pro-consul seized a club, 
with the quietly determined air of a brave man, resolved to do 
some deed of note ; he went into the yard adjoining his cottage, 
where there were some thin, thoughtful, canting cocks, and 
serious low-church-looking hens, respectfully listening, and 



CHAP. VII.] 



CYPRUS. 



59 



chickens of tender years so well brought up as scarcely to 
betray in their conduct the careless levity of youth. The Pro- 
consul stood for a moment quite calm — collecting his strength ; 
then suddenly he rushed into the midst of the congregation, and 
began to deal death and destruction on all sides ; he spared 
neither sex nor age ; the dead and dying were immediately 
removed from the field of slaughter, and in less than an hour, 
I think, they were brought to the table, deeply buried in mounds 
of snowy rice. 

My host was in all respects a fine, generous fellow ; I could 
not bear the idea of impoverishing him by my visit, and I con- 
sulted my faithful Mysseri, who not only assured me that I 
might safely offer money to the Pro-consul, but recommended 
that I should give no more to him than to the others," mean- 
ing any other peasant ; I felt, however, that there was some- 
thing about the man, besides the flag and the cap, which made 
me shrink from offering coin, and as I mounted my horse on 
.departing, I gave him the only thing fit for a present which I 
happened to have with me, a rather handsome clasp-dagger, 
which I had brought from Vienna ; the poor fellow was ineffa- 
bly grateful, and I had some difficulty in tearing myself from 
out of the reach of his thanks ; at last I gave him what I sup- 
posed to be the last farewell, and rode on, but I had not gained 
more than about a hundred yards, when my host came bounding 
and shouting after me, with a goat's milk cheese in his hand, 
which he implored me to accept. In old times the shepherd of 
Theocritus, or (to speak less dishonestly) the shepherd of the 
" Poetse Grseci," sung his best song ; I, in this latter age, pre- 
sented my best dagger, and both o^ us received the same rustic 
reward. 

It had been known that I should return to Limesol, and when 
I arrived there 1 found that a noble old Greek had been hospita- 
bly plotting to have me for his guest ; I willingly accepted his 
offer. The day of my arrival happened to be the birth-day of 
my host, and in consequence of this there was a constant influx 
of visitors who came to offer their congratulations ; a few of 
these were men, but most of them were young, graceful girls ; 



60 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, vit 



almost all of them went through the ceremony with the utmost 
precision and formality ; each in succession spoke her blessing, 
in the tone of a person repeating a set formula — then deferen- 
tially accepted the invitation to sit — -partook of the proffered 
sweetmeats, and the cold, glittering water — remained for a few 
minutes either in silence, or engaged in very thin conversation — 
then arose, delivered a second benediction followed by an elabo- 
rate farewell, and departed. 

The bewitching power attributed at this day to the women of 
Cyprus, is curious in connection with the worship of the sweet 
goddess who called their isle her own; the Cypriote is not, I 
think, nearly so beautiful in the face as the Ionian queens of Izmir, 
but she is tall, and slightly formed — there is a high-souled mean- 
ing and expression — a seeming consciousness of gentle empire 
that speaks in the wavy lines of the shoulder, and winds itself 
like Cytherea's own cestus around the slender waist — then the 
richly abounding hair (not enviously gathered together under 
the head-dress) descends the neck, and passes the waist in sump- 
tuous braids ; of all other women with Grecian blood in their 
veins, the costume is graciously beautiful, but these, the 
maidens of Limesol — their robes are more gently, more sweetly 
imagined, and fall like Julia's Cashmere in soft, luxurious folds. 
The common voice of the Levant allows that in the face the 
women of Cyprus are less beautiful than their brilliant sisters of 
Smyrna, and yet, says the Greek, he may trust himself to one and 
all of the bright cities of the ^gean, and may yet weigh anchor 
with a heart entire, but that so surely as he ventures upon the 
enchanted Isle of Cyprus, so surely will he know the rapture, or 
the bitterness of Love. The charm, they say, owes it power to 
that which the people call the astonishing politics" (iroXirtKn) of 
the women, meaning, I fancy, their tact, and their witching 
ways ; the word, however, plainly fails to express one half of 
that which the speakers would say ; I have smiled to hear the 
Greek, with all his plenteousness of fancy, and all the wealth of 
his generous language, yet vainly struggling to describe the 
ineffable spell which the Parisians dispose of in thei" -mi smart 
way, by a summary Je ne s^ai quoi." 



CHAP. VII.] 



CYPRUS. 



61 



I went to Larnecca, the chief city of the isle, and over the 
water at last to Beyrout. 

*^* The writer takes leave to suggest that none should attempt to read the 
following account of the late Lady Hester Stanhope, except those who may 
already chance to feel an interest in the personage to whom it relates. The 
chapter (which has been written and printed for the reasons mentioned in 
the preface) is chiefly filled with the detailed conversation, or rather dis- 
course of a highly eccentric gentlewoman. 



62 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VIII. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Lady Hester Stanhope, 

Beyrout on its land side is hemmed in by the Druses, who 
occupy all the neighboring highlands. 

Often enough I saw the ghostly images of the women with 
their exalted horns stalking through the streets, and I saw too, in 
travelling, the affrighted groups of the mountaineers as they fled 
before me, under the fear that my party might be a company of 
Income-tax commissioners, or a press-gang enforcing the con- 
scription for Mehemet Ali, but nearly all my knowledge of the 
people, except in regard to their mere costume, and outward 
appearance, is drawn from books, and despatches, to which I 
have the honor to refer you. 

I received hospitable welcome at Beyrout, from the Europeans, 
as well as from the Syrian Christians, and I soon discovered that 
their standing topic of interest was the Lady Hester Stanhope, 
who lived in an old convent on the Lebanon range, at the dis- 
tance of about a day's journey from the town. The lady's habit 
of refusing to see Europeans added the charm of mystery to a 
character, which, even without that aid, was sufficiently distin- 
guished to command attention. 

Many years of Lady Hester's early womanhood had been 
passed with Lady Chatham at Burton Pynsent, and during that 
inglorious period of the heroine's life, her commanding charac- 
ter, and (as they would have called it, in the language of those 
days), her condescending kindness" towards my mother's 
family, had increased in them those strong feelings of respect 
and attachment, which her rank and station alone would have 
easily won from people of the middle class. You may suppose 
how deeply the quiet women in Somersetshire must have been 
interested, when they slowly learned by vague and uncertain 



CHAP. VIII.] LABY HESTER STANHOPE. 



63 



tidings that the intrepid girl who had been used to break their 
vicious horses for them, was reigning in sovereignty over the 
wandering tribes of Western Asia ! I know that her name was 
made almost as familiar to me in my childhood as the name of 
Robinson Crusoe ; both were associated with the spirit of adven- 
ture, but whilst the imagined life of the cast-away mariner never 
failed to seem glaringly real, the true story of the English- 
woman ruling over Arabs always sounded to me like fable. I 
never had heard, nor indeed, I believe, had the rest of the world 
ever heard anything like a certain account of the Heroine's 
adventures ; all I knew was, that in one of the draw^ers which 
were the delight of my childhood, along with atta of roses, and 
fragrant wonders from Hindostan, there w^ere letters carefully 
treasured, and trifling presents which I was taught to think val- 
uable because they had come from the Queen of the Desert, who 
dwelt in tents, and reigned over wandering Arabs. 

The subject, however, died away, and from the ending of my 
childhood up to the period of my arrival in the Levant, I had 
seldom even heard a mentioning of the Lady Hester Stanhope, 
but now wherever I went, I was met with the name so familiar 
in sound, and yet so full of mystery from the vague, fairy-tale 
sort of idea which it brought to my mind ; I heard it, too^ con- 
nected with fresh wonders, for it was said that the woman was 
now acknowledged as an inspired being by the people of the 
Mountains, and it was even hinted with horror that she claimed 
to be more ihan a prophet. 

I felt at once that my mother would be sadly sorry to hear 
that I had been within a day's ride of her early friend without 
offering to see her, and I therefore despatched a letter to the 
Recluse, mentioning the maiden name of my mother (whose 
marriage was subsequent to Lady Hester's departure), and say- 
ing that if there existed on the part of her Ladyship any wish to 
hear of her old Somersetshire acquaintance, I should make a 
point of visiting her. My letter was sent by a foot messenger 
who was to take an unlimited time for his journey, so that it 
was not, I think, until either the third or the fourth day that the 
answer arrived. A couple of horsemen covered with mud sud- 
denly dashed into the little court of the Locanda/^ in which I 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VllI 



was staying, bearing themselves as ostentatiously as though 
they were carrying a cartel from the Devil to the Angel 
Michael ; one of these (the other being his attendant) was an 
Italian by birth (though now completely orientalized), who lived 
in my Lady's establishment as a Doctor nominally, but practi- 
cally as an upper servant ; he presented me a very kind and 
appropriate letter of invitation. 

It happened that I was rather unwell at this time, sc that I 
named a more distant day for my visit than I should otherwise 
have done, and after all, I did not start at the time fixed ; whilst 
still remaining at Beyrout I received this letter, which certainly 
betrays no symptom of the pretensions to Divine power, which 
were popularly attributed to the writer : — 

" Sir, — I hope I shall be disappointed in seeing you on Wednesday, for 
the late rains have rendered the River Damoor if not dangerous, at least, 
very unpleasant to pass for a person who has been lately indisposed, for if 
the animal swims, you would be immerged in the waters. The weather 
will probably change after the 21st of the moon, and after a couple of days 
the roads and the river will be passable, therefore I shall expect you either 
Saturday or Monday. 

" It will be a great satisfaction to me to have an opportunity of inquiring 
after your mother, who was a sw^eet, lovely girl when I knew her. 
Believe me, Sir, 

Yours sincerely, 

Hester Lucy Stanhope." 

Early one morning I started from Beyrout. There are no 
regularly established relays of horses in Syria, at least not in 
the line which I took, and you therefore hire your cattle for the 
whole journey, or, at all events, for your journey to some large 
town. Under these circumstances you have no occasion for a 
Tatar (whose principal utility consists in his power to compel 
the supply of horses). In other respects, the mode of travelling 
through Syria differs very little from that which I have de- 
scribed as prevailing in Turkey. I hired my horses and mules 
(for I had some of both) for the whole of the journey from Bey- 
rout to Jerusalem ; the owner of the beasts (who had a couple 
of fellows under him) was the most digrified member of my 
party * he was, indeed, a magnificent old man, and was called 



CHAP 



LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 



65 



Shereef, or, holy,*' — a title of honor, which, with the privilege 
of bearing the green turban, he well deserved, not only from the 
blood of the Prophet which glowed in his veins, but from the 
well-known sanctity of his life, and the length of his blessed 
beard. 

Mysseri, of course, still travelled with me, but the x\rabic was 
not one of the seven languages which he spoke so perfectly, and 
I was, therefore, obliged to hire another interpreter. I had no 
difficulty in finding a proper man for the purpose — one Deme- 
trius, — or, as he was always called, Dthemetri, a native of 
Zante, who had been tossed about by fortune in all directions. 
He spoke the Arabic very well, and communicated with me in 
Italian. The man was a very zealous member of the Greek 
church. He had been a tailor. He was as ugly as the devil, 
having a thoroughly Tatar countenance, which expressed the 
agony of his body or mind, as the case might be, in the most 
ludicrous manner imaginable ; he embellished the natural cari- 
cature of his person, by suspending about his neck, and shoul- 
ders, and waist, quantities of little bundles and parcels, which 
he thought too valuable to be entrusted to the jerking of pack- 
saddles. The mule which fell to his lot on this journey, every now 
and then, forgetting that his rider was a saint, and remembering 
that he was a tailor, took a quiet roll upon the ground, and 
stretched his limbs calmly and lazily, as if he were preparing 
to hear a long sermon. Dthemetri never got seriously hurt, but 
the subversion and dislocation of his bundles made him for the 
moment a sad spectacle of ruin, and when he regained his legs, 
his v/rath v/ith the mule became very amusing. He always 
addressed the beast in language which implied, that he, as a 
Christian and saint, had been personally insulted and oppressed 
by a Mahometan mule. Dthemetri, however, on the whole^ 
proved to be a most able and capital servant ; I suspected him 
of now and then leading me out of my way, in order that he 
might have an opportunity of visiting the shrine of a saint, and 
on one occasion, as you will see by and by, he was induced, by 
religious motives, to commit a gross breach of duty ; but putting 
these pious faults out of the question (and they were faults of 
the right side), he was always faithful and true to me. 
6 



66 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VIII 



I left Saide (the Sidon of ancient times), on my right, and 
about an hour, I think, before sunset, began to ascend one of the 
many low hills of Lebanon. On the summit before me, was a 
broad, grey mass of irregular building, which, from its position, 
as well as from the gloomy blankness of its walls, gave the idea 
of a neglected fortress ; it had, in fact, been a convent of great 
size, and like most of the religious houses in this part of the 
world, had been made strong enough for opposing an inert re- 
sistance to any mere casual band of assailants w^ho might be 
unprovided with regular means of attack ; this was the dwelling- 
place of the Chatham's fiery grand-daughter. 

The aspect of the first court which I entered, was such as to 
keep one in the idea of having to do with a fortress, rather than 
a mere peaceable dwelling-place. A numiber of fierce-looking 
and ill-clad Albanian soldiers were hanging about the place, and 
striving to bear the curse of tranquillity, as well as they could ; 
two or three of them, I think, w^ere smoking their tchibouques, but 
the rest of them were lying torpidly upon the flat stones, like the 
bodies of departed brigands. I rode on to an inner part of the 
building, and at last, quitting my horses, was conducted through 
a door-way which led me at once from an open court into an 
apartment on the ground floor. As I entered, an oriental 
figure in male costume approached me from the farther end 
of the room with many and profound bows, but the growing 
shades of evening, as well as my near-sightedness, prevented 
me from distinguishing the features of the personage who was 
receiving me with this solemn welcome. I had always, how- 
ever, understood that Lady Hester Stanhope wore the male 
attire, and I began to utter in English the common civilities 
which seemed to be .proper on the commencement of a visit by 
an uninspired mortal to a renowned Prophetess, but the figure 
which I addressed only bowed so much the more, prostrating 
itself almost to the ground, but speaking to me never a word ; 
I feebly strived not to be outdone in gestures of respect, but 
presently my bowing opponent saw the error under which I was 
acting, and suddenly convinced me, that at all events I was not 
yet in the presence of a superhuman being, by declaring that he 
was not Miladi/' but was, in fact, nothing more or less god- 



CHAP VIII.] LADY HKSTER STANHOPE. 



67 



ike than the poor Doctor, who had brought his mistress's letters 
to Beyrout. 

Her Ladyship, in the right spirit of hospitality, now sent, and 
commanded me to repose for a while after the fatigues of my 
journey, and to dine. 

The cuisine was of the Oriental kind, which is highly artifi- 
cial, and I thought it very good. I rejoiced, too, in the WTr;e cf 
the Lebanon. 

Soon after the ending of the dinner, the Doctor arrived with 
Miladi's compliments, and an intim^ation that she would be happy 
to receive me if I were so disposed. It had now grown dark, 
and the rain was falling heavily, so that I got rather wet in fol- 
lowing my guide through the open courts which I had to pass, 
in order to reach the presence chamber. At last I was ushered 
into a small apartment, which was protected from the draughts 
of air through the door-way by a folding screen ; passing this, I 
came alongside of a common European sofa, where sat the Lady 
Prophetess. She rose from her seat very formally — spoke to 
me a few w^ords of welcome, pointed to a chair which was 
placed exactly opposite to her sofa, at a couple of yards distance, 
and remained standing up to the full of her majestic height, per- 
fectly still and motionless, until I had taken my appointed place; 
she then resumed her seat, not packing herself up according to 
the mode of the Orientals, but allowing her feet to rest on the 
floor, or the footstool ; at the moment of seating herself, she 
covered her lap w^ith a mass of loose, white drapery, which she 
held in her hand. It occurred to me at the time, that she did 
this, in order to avoid the awkv/ardness of sitting in manifest 
trowsers under the eye of an European, but I can hardly fancy 
now, that with her wilful nature, she would have brooked such 
a compromise as this. 

The woman before me had exactly the person of a Prophet- 
ess — not, indeed, of the divine Sibyl imagined by Domenichino, 
so sweetly distracted betwixt Love and Mystery, but of a good, 
business-like, practical Prophetess, long used to the exercise of 
her ssicred calling. I lave been told by those who knew Lady 
Hester S-tanhope in her youth, that any notion of a resemblance 
betwixt her, and the gi 3at Chatham must have been fanciful, 



6S 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VLII. 



but at the time of my seeimg her, the large commanding features 
of the gaunt woman, then sixty years old or more, certainly 
reminded me of the Statesman that lay dying* in the House of 
Lords, according to Copley's picture ; her face was of the most 
astonishing whiteness ;f she wore a very large turban, which 
seemed to be of pale cashmere shawls, so disposed as to conceal 
the hair ; her dress, from the chin down to the point at which it 
was concealed by the drapery which she held over her lap, was 
a mass of white linen loosely folding — an ecclesiastical sort of 
affair — more like a surplice than any of those blessed creations 
which our souls love under the names of " dress," and frock," 
and boddice," and " collar," and habit-shirt," and sv/eet 
chemisette." 

Such was the outward seeming of the personage that sat be- 
fore me, and indeed she was almost bound by the fame of her 
actual achievements, as well as by her sublim.e pretensions, to 
look a little differently from the rest of woman-kind. There 
had been something of grandeur in her career : after the death 
of Lady Chatham, which happened in 1803, she lived under the 
roof of her uncle, the second Pitt, and when he resumed the 
Government in 1804, she became the dispenser of much patron- 
age, and sole Secretary of State, for the department of Treasury 
banquets. Not having seen the Lady until late in her life, 
when she was fired with spiritual ambition, I can hardly fancy 
that she could have performed her political duties in the saloons 
of the Minister with much of feminine sweetness and patience ; 
I am told, however, that she managed matters very well indeed ; 
perhaps it was better for the lofty-minded leader of the House, 
to have his reception-rooms guarded by this stately creature, 
than by a merely olever and managing woman ; it was fitting 
that the wholesome awe with which he filled the minds of the 
country gentlemen, should be aggravated by the presence of his 
majestic niece. But the end was approaching ; the sun of Aus- 
terlitz showed the Czar madly sliding his splendid army like 
a weaver's shuttle, from his right hand to his left, under the 

* Historically '^fainting the death did not occur till long afterwards, 
t I am told that in youth sb« fv'as exceedingly sallow. 



CHAP. VIII.] LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 6S 



very eyes — the deep, grey, watchful eyes of Napoleon ; before 
night came, the coalition was a vain thing — meet for History, 
and the heart of its great author was crushed with grief, when 
the terrible tidings came to his ears. In the bitterness of his 
despair, he cried out to his niece, and bid her " Roll tip the 
Map of Europe;" there v/as a little more of suffering, and at 
last, with his swollen tongue still muttering something for Eng- 
land, he died by the noblest of all sorrows. 

Lady Hester, meeting the calamity in her own fierce way, 
seems to have scorned the poor island that had not enough of 
God's grace to keep the " heaven-sent'^ minister alive. I can 
hardly tell why it should be, but there is a longing for the East, 
very commonly felt by proud-hearted people, w^hen goaded by 
sorrow. Lady Hester Stanhope obeyed this impulse : for some 
time, I believe, she was at Constantinople, where her magnifi- 
cence, and near alliance to the late minister, gained her great 
influence. Afterwards she passed into Syria. The people of 
that country, excited by the achievements of Sir Sydney Smith, 
had begun to imagine the possibility of their land being occupied 
by the English, and many of them looked upon Lady Hester as 
a Princess who cam.e to prepare the way for the expected con- 
quest. I don't know it from her own lips, or indeed from any 
certain authority, but I have been told that she began her con- 
nection with the Bedouins by making a large present of money 
(£500, it v/as said, immense in piastres) to the Sheik whose 
authority was recognized in that part of the Desert, which lies 
between Damascus and Palmyra. The prestige created by the 
rumors of her high and undefinea rank, as well as of her wealth, 
and corresponding magnificence, was well sustained by her im- 
perious character, and her dauntless bravery. Her influence 
increasea. I never heard anything satisfactory as to the real 
extent or duration of her sway, but it seegied that, for a time at 
least, she certainly exercised something like sovereignty amongst 
the wandering tribes. And now that her earthly kingdom had 
passed away, she strove for spiritual power, and impiously dared, 
as it was said, to boast some mystic union with the very God of 
very God ! 

A couple of black slave gir^s came at a signal, and supplied 



70 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VIII, 



their mistress as well as myself, with ligl ted tchibouques, and 
coffee. 

The custom of the East sarctions, and ahuost commands some 
moments of silence whilst you are inhaling the first few breaths 
of the fragrant pipe ; the pause was broken, I think, by my 
Lady, who addressed to me some inquiries respecting my mother, 
and particularly as to her marriage ; but before I had commu- 
nicated any great amount of family facts, the spirit of the Pro- 
phetess kindled within her, and presently (though with all the 
skill of a w^oman of the world) she shuffled away the subject of 
poor dear Somersetshire, and bounded onward into loftier spheres 
of thought. 

My old acquaintance wdth some of " the twelve," enabled me 
to bear my part (of course a very humble one), in a conversa- 
tion relative to occult science. Milnes once spread a report, that 
every gang of gipsies was found upon inquiry to have come last 
from a place to the w^estward, and to be about to make the next 
move in an eastern direction ; either therefore they were to be all 
gathered together towards the rising of the sun, by the mysteri- 
ous finger of Providence, or else they were to revolve round the 
globe for ever, and ever, and ever ; both of these suppositions 
were highly gratifying, because they were both marvellous, and 
though the story on which they were founded plainly sprung 
from the inventive brain of a poet, no one had ever been so 
odiously statistical as to attempt a contradiction of it. I now 
mentioned the story as a report to Lady Hester Stanhope, and 
asked her if it were true ; I could not have touched upon any 
imaginable subject more deeply interesting to my hearer— more 
closely akin to her habitual train of thinking ; she immediately 
threw off all the restraint belonging to an interview with a 
stranger; and when she had received a few more similar proofs 
of my aptness for the marvellous, she went so far as to say, that 
she would adopt me as her " eleve" in occult science. 

For hours, and hours, this wondrous white woman poured forth 
her speech, for the most part concerning sacred and profane 
mysteries ; but every now and then, she would stay her lofty 
flight, and swoop down upon the world again ; whenever this 
happened, I was interested in her conversation. 



CHAP. VIII.] 



LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 



71 



She adverted more than once to the period of her lost sway 
amongst the Arabs, and mentioned some of the circumstances 
which aided her in obtaining influence with the wandering tribes. 
The Bedouin, so often engaged in irregular warfare, strains his 
eyes to the horizon in search of a coming enemy just as habitu- 
ally as the sailor keeps his " bright look out" for a strange sail. 
In the absence of telescopes, a far-reaching sight is highly 
valued, and Lady Hester possessed this quality to an extraordi- 
nary degree. She told me that on one occasion, when there was 
good reason to expect a hostile attack, great excitement was felt 
in the camp by the report of a far-seeing Arab, who declared 
that he could just distinguish some moving objects upon the very 
furthest point within the reach of his eyes ; Lady Hester was 
consulted, and she instantly assured her comrades in arms, that 
there were indeed a number of horses within sight, but that they 
were without riders ; the assertion proved to be correct, and 
from that time forth her superiority over all others in respect of 
,far sight remained undisputed. 

Lady Hester related to me this other anecdote of her Arab 
life ; it wa§ when the heroic qualities of the Englishwoman 
were just beginning to be felt amongst the people of the desert, 
that she was marching one day along with the forces of the 
tribe, to which she had allied herself. She perceived that pre- 
parations for an engagement were going on, and upon her making 
inquiry as to the cause, the Sheik at first affected mystery and 
concealment, but at last confessed that war had been declared 
against his tribe on account of its alliance with the English 
Princess, and that they were now unfortunately about to be 
attacked by a very superior force ; he made it appear that Lady 
Hester v/as the sole cause of hostility betwixt his tribe and the 
impending enemy, and that his sacred duty of protecting the 
Englishwoman whom he had admitted as his guest, was the only 
obstacle which prevented an amicable arrangem.ent of the dis- 
pute. The Sheik hinted that his tribe was likely to sustain an 
almost overwhelming blow, but at the same time declared, that 
no fear of the consequences, however terrible to him, and his 
whole people, should induce him to dream of abandoning his 
illustrious guest. The Heroine instantly took her part ; it v/as 



72 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, vm 



not for her to be a source of danger to her friends, but rather to 
her enemies, so she resolved to turn away from the people, and 
trust for help to none, save only her haughty self. The Sheiks 
affected to dissuade her from so rash a course, and fairly told 
her that although they (having been freed from her presence) 
v/ould be able to make good terms for themselves, yet that there 
were no means of allaying the hostility felt towards her, and 
that the whole face of the desert would be swept by the horse- 
men of her enemies so carefully, as to make her escape into 
other districts almost impossible. The brave woman was not to 
be moved by terrors of this kind, and bidding farewell to the 
tribe which had honored and protected her, she turned her 
horse's head, and rode straight away from them, without friend, 
or follower. Hours had elapsed, and for some time she had 
been alone in the centre of the round horizon, when her quick 
eye perceived some horsemen in the distance. The party came 
nearer, and nearer ; soon it was plain that they were making 
towards her, and presently some hundreds of Bedouins, fully 
armed, gallopped up to her, ferociously shouting, and apparently 
intending to take her life at the instant with their pointed spears. 
Her face at the time was covered with the yashmack according 
to Eastern usage, but at the moment when the foremost of 
the horsemen had all but reached her with their spears, she stood 
up in her stirrups — withdrew the yashmack that veiled the ter- 
rors of her countenance — waved her arm slowly and disdainfully, 
and cried out with a loud voice, " Avaunt !"* The horsemen 
recoiled from her glance, but not in terror. The threatening 
yells of the assailants were suddenly changed for loud shouts of 
joy, and admiration, at the bravery of the stately Englishwoman, 
and festive gun-shots were fired on ail sides around her honored 
head. The truth was, that the party belonged to the tribe with 
which she had allied herself, and that the threatened attack, as 
well as the pretended apprehension of an engagement, had been 
contrived for the mere purpose of testing her courage. The day 

* She spoke it, I dare say, in English ; the words would not be the less 
effective for being spoken in an unknown tongue. Lady Hester, I believe, 
never learnt to speak the Arabic with a pe 'feet accent. 



Li^i* ^lix.j LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 73 



ended in a. great feast prepared to do honor to the heroine, and 
from hat time her power over the minds of the people grew rap- 
idly. Lady Hester related this story with great spirit, and I 
recollect that she put up her yashmack for a moment, in order 
to give a better idea of the effect which she produced by 
suddenly revealing the awfulness of her countenance. 

With respect to her then present mode of life, Lady Hester 
informed me, that for her sin, she had subjected herself during 
many years to serve penance, and that her self denial had not 
been without its reward. Vain and false," said she, "is all 
the pretended knowledge of the Europeans — their Doctors will 
tell you that the drinking of milk gives yellov/ness to the com- 
plexion ; milk is my only food, and you see if my face be not 
white." Her abstinence from food intellectual, w^as carried as 
far as her physical fasting ; she never, she said, looked upon a 
book nor a newspaper, but trusted alone to the stars for her sub- 
lime knowledge'; she usually passed the night in com.muning 
with these heavenly teachers, and lay at rest during the day- 
time. She spoke with great contem.pt of the frivolity/, and be- 
nighted ignorance of the modern Europeans, and mentioned in 
proof of this, that they were not only untaught in astrology, but 
were unacquainted with the common and every day phenomena 
produced by magic art; she spoke as if she would make me 
understand that all sorcerous spells were completely at her com.- 
mand, but that the exercise of such powers w^ould be derogatory 
to her high rank in the heavenly kingdom, She said, that the 
spell by which the face of an absent person is thrown upon a 
mirror, was within the reach of the hum^blest and most con- 
temptible magicians, but that the practice of such like arts was 
unholy, as well as vulgar. 

We spoke of the bending twig by which it is said that pre- 
cious metals may be discovered. In relation to this, the Pro- 
phetess told me a story rather against herself, and inconsistent 
with the notion of her being perfect in her science, but I think 
that she mentioned the facts as having happened before the time 
at which she attained to the great spiritual authority which she 
now arrogated ; she told me that vast treasures were known to 
exist in a situation whicl she mentioned, if I rightly remember^ 



74 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VIII. 



as being near Suez : that Napoleon, profanely brave, thrust his 
arm into the cave, containing the coveted gold, and that instantly 
his flesh became palsied, but the youthful hero (for she said he 
was great in his generation) w^as not to l>e thus daunted ; he 
fell back characteristically upon his brazen resources, and 
ordered up his artillery ; but man could not strive with demons, 
and Napoleon was foiled. In years after came Ibrahim Pasha, 
with heavy guns, and wicked spells to- boot, but the infernal 
guardians of the treasure were too strong for him. It was after 
this that Lady Hester passed by the spot, and she described, 
with animated gesture, the force and energy with which the 
divining twig had suddenly leaped in her hands ; she ordered 
excavations, and no demons opposed her enterprise ; the vast 
chest in which the treasure had been deposited was at length 
discovered, but lo ! and behold, it was full of pebbles ! She 
said, however, that the times v/ere approaching, in which the 
hidden treasures of the earth would become available to those 
who had true knowledge. 

Speaking of Ibrahim Pasha, Lady Hester said, that he was a 
bold, bad man, and was possessed of some of those common and 
wicked magical arts upon which she looked down with so much 
contempt ; she said, for instance, that Ibrahim's life was charmed 
against balls and steel, and that after a battle, he loosened the 
folds of his shawl, and shook out the bullets like dust. 

It seems that the St. Simonians once made overtures to Lady 
Hester ; she told me that the Pere Enfantin (the chief of the 
sect) had sent .her a service of plate, but that she had declined 
to receive it ; she delivered a prediction as to the probability of 
the St. Simonians finding the " mystic mother," and' this she did 
in a way which would amuse you ; unfortunately, I am not at 
liberty to mention this part of the woman's prophecies ; why, I 
cannot tell, but so it is, that she bound me to eternal secrecy. 

Lady Hester told me, that since her residence at Djoun, she 
had been attacked by a terrible illness, which rendered her for a 
long time perfectly helpless ; all her attendants fled, and left her 
to perish. Whilst she lay thus alone, and quite unable to rise, 
robbers came, and carried away her property;'^ she told me, 

* The proceedings thus describs4 to me by Lady Hester, as having taken 



CHAP. 



VIII. J 



LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 



75 



that they -actually unroofed a great part of the building, and em- 
ployed engines with pulleys for the purpose of hoisting out such 
of her valuables as were too bulky to pass through doors. It 
would seem that, before this catastrophe, Lady Hester had been 
rich in the possession of Eastern luxuries, for she told me that 
when the chiefs of the Ottaman force took refuge with her after 
the fall of Acre, they brought their wives also in great numbers ; 
to all of these Lady Hester, as she said, presented magnificent 
dresses, but her generosity occasioned strife only instead of grati- 
tude, for every woman who fancied her present less splendid than 
that of another, with equal or less pretension, became absolutely 
furious ; ail these audacious guests had now been got rid of, but 
the Albanian soldiers who had taken refuge with Lady Hester at 
the sam^e time, still remained under her protection. 

In truth, this half ruined convent, guarded by the proud heart 

place during her illness, were afterwards re-enacted at the time of he* 
death. Since I wrote the words to which this note is appended, I received 
from an English traveller, this interesting account of the heroine's death, oi 
rather of the circumstances attending the discovery of the event ; the letter 
is dated Djoun (Lady Hester's late residence) and contains the following 
passages : — I reached this strange hermitage last night, and though time 
and some naval officers are urging my departure, I am too glad to find my- 
self in a place whereof we have often discoursed, to allow the opportunity 
of writing to you to pass by. How beautiful must this convent-palace have 
been when you saw it, its strange mistress doing its hospitalities and exer- 
cising her self-won regal power ! A friend of has a letter from the 

Sultan to her, beginning ' Cousin.' She annihilated a village for disobedi- 
ence, and burned a mountain chalet with ail its inhabitants, for the murder 
of a traveller. * * * She held on gallantly to the last. Moore, our 
Consul at Beyroot, heard she was ill, and rode over the mountains accom- 
panied by a missionary, to visit her. A profound silence was over all the 
palace — no one met them— they lighted their own lamps in the outer court, 
and passed unquestioned through court and gallery, till they came to where 
she lay : a corpse was the only inhabitant of Djoun, and the isolation from 
her kind which she so long sought, was indeed completed. That morning 
thirty-seven servants had watched every motion of her eye ; that spell once 
darkened by death, every one fled with the plunder ; not a single thing was 
left in the room where she lay dead, except upon her person ; no one had 
ventured to touch that, and even in death she seemed able to protect herself. 
At midnight the missionary carried her out to a favorite resort of hers in the 
garden, and there they buried her. * * * The buildings are fast falling 
into decay." 



76 



EOTHEN 



[chap viit. 



of an English gentlewoman, was the only spot throughout ali 
Syria and Palestine in which the will of Mehemet Ali and his 
fieice Lieutenant was not the law. More than once had the 
Pasha of Egypt commanded that Ibrahim should have the Alba- 
• nians delivered up to him, but this white woman of the mountain 
(grown classical, not by books, but by very pride) answered 
only with a disdainful invitation to come and take them.'^ 
Whether it was that Ibrahim was acted upon by any superstitious 
dread of interfering with the Prophetess (a notion not at all 
incompatible with his character as an able Oriental commander), 
or that he feared the ridicule of putting himself in collision with 
a gentlewoman, he certainly never ventured to attack the sanc- 
tuary, and so long as the Chatham's grand-daughter breathed a 
breath of life, there w^as always this one hillock, and that, too, in 
the midst of a most populous district, which stood out and kept its 
freedom. Mehemet Ali used to say, I am told, that the English 
woman had given him more trouble than all the insurgent people 
of Syria and Palestine. 

The Prophetess announced to me that w^e were upon the eve 
of a stupendous convulsion, which would destroy the then recog- 
nized value of all property upon earth, and declaring that those 
only who should be in the East at the time of the great change 
could hope for greatness in the new life that was now close at 
hand, she advised me, wdiilst there was yet time, to dispose of my 
property in fragile England, and gain a station in Asia ; she told 
me that, after leaving her, I should go into Egypt, but that in a 
little while I should return into Syria. I secretly smiled at this 
last prophecy as a " bad- shot," for I had fully determined, after 
visiting the pyramids, to take ship from Alexandi'ia for Greece. 
But men struggle vainly in the meshes of their destiny ; the un- 
believed Cassandra was right after all ; the Plague came, and 
the necessity of avoiding the Quarantine to which I should have 
been subjected, if I had sailed from Alexandria, forced me to 
alter my route : I went down into Egypt, and stayed there for a 
time, and then crossed the Desert once more, and came back to 
the mountains of the Lebanon exactly as the Prophetess had 
foretold. 

Lady Hester talked to me long and earnestly on the subject :>f 



CHAP. VIII.] LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 



77 



Religion, announcing that the Messiah was yet to come : she strived 
to impress me with the vanity and the falseness of all European 
creeds, as well as with a sense of her own spiritual greatness : 
throughout her conversation upon these high topics, she skilfully 
insinuated, without actually asserting, her heavenly rank. 

Amongst other much more marvellous powers, the Lady 
claimed to have one which most women I fancy possess, namely, 
that of reading men's characters in their faces ; she examined 
the line of my features very attentively, and told me the result, 
which, however, I mean to keep hidden. 

One great subject of discourse was that of " race," upon which 
she was very diffuse, and yet rather mysterious ; she set great 
value upon the ancient French (not Norman blood, for that she 
vilified), but did not at all appreciate that which we call in this 
country an old family.'"* She had a vast idea of the Cornish 
miners on account of their race, and said, if she chose, she could 
give me the means of rousing them to the most tremendous en- 
thusiasm. 

Such are the topics on which the Lady mainly conversed, but 
very often she would descend to more worldly chat, and then she 
was no longer the prophetess, but the sort of woman that you 
sometimes see, I am told, in London drawing-rooms, — cool — un- 
sparing of enemies — full of audacious fun, and saying the down- 
right things that the sheepish society around her is afraid to 
utter. I am told that Lady Hester was in her youth a capital 
mimic, and she showed me that not all the queenly dullness to 
which she had condemned herself, — not all her fasting, and soli- 
tude, had destroyed this terrible power. The first whom she 
crucified in my presence, was poor Lord Byron ; she had seen 
him, it appbared, I know not where, soon after his arrival in the 
East, and wdb -vastly amused at his little affectations ; he had 
picked up a iesv sentences of the Romaic, with which he affect- 
ed to give orders to his Greek servant ; I can't tell whether 

* In a Iptter which I afterwards receiv^ed from Lady Hester, she mentioned 
incidentally Lora Hard wicke, and said that he was ''the kindest-hearted 
man existing — a most manly, firm character. He comes from a good breed, 
^all the Yorkes excellent, with ancient French blood in their veins." 



78 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. VIII. 



Lady Hester's mimicry the bard was at all close, but it was 
amusing : she attributed to him a curiously coxcombical lisp. 

Another person whose style of speaking the Lady took off 
very amusingly was one who would scarcely object to suffer by 
the side of Lord Byron, — I mean Lamartine, who had visited 
her in the course of his travels ; the peculiarity which attracted 
her ridicule was an over- refinement of manner : according to my 
Lady's imitation of Lamartine (I have never seen him myself), 
he had none of the violent grimace of his countrymen, and not 
even their usual way of talking, but rather bore himself min- 
3ingly, like the humbler sort of English Dandy.* 

Lady Hester seems to have heartily despised everything ap- 
proaching to exquisiteness ; she told me, by the by (and her 
opinion upon that subject is worth having), that a downright man- 
ner, amounting even to brusqueness, is more effective than any 
other with the Oriental ; and that am.ongst the English, of all 
ranks, and all classes, there is no man so attractive to the Orien- 
tals — no man who can negotiate with them half so effectively, as 
a good, honest, open-hearted, and positive naval officer of the 
old school. 

I have told you, I think, that Lady Hester could deal fiercely 
with those she hated ; one man above all others (he is now up- 
rooted from society, and cast away for ever) she blasted with 
her wrath ; you would have thought that in the scornfulness of 
her nature, she must have sprung upon her foe with more of 
fierceness than of skill, but this was not so, for with all the 
force and vehemence of her invective, she displayed a sober, 
patient and minute attention to the details of vituperation, which 
contributed to its success a thousand times more than mere vio- 
lence. 

* It is said that deaf people can hear wnat is said concerning themselves, 
and it would seem that those who live vs^ithout books, or nevs^spapers, know 
all that is written about them. Lady Hester Stanhope, though not admit- 
ting a book or newspaper into her fortress, seems to have known the way in 
which M. Lamartine mentioned her in his book, for in a letter which she 
wrote to me after my return to England, she says, " although neglected, as 
Monsieur Le M." (referring as I believe to M. Lamartine) " describes, and 
without books, yet my head is organized to supply the war/ii of them, as well 
as acquired knowledge." 



CHAP. VIII.] LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 79 



Durinor -the hours that this sort of conversation or rather dis- 
course was going on, our tchibouques were from time to time re- 
plenished, and the Lady as well as I, continued to smoke with little 
or no intermission, till the interview ended. I think that the 
fragrant fumes of the Latakiah must have helped to keep me on 
my good behavior as a patient disciple of the Prophetess. 

It was not till after midnight that my visit for the evening 
came to an end ; when I quitted my seat the Lady rose, and stood 
up in the same formal attitude (almost that of a soldier in a state 
of " attention,") which she had assumed at my entrance, at the 
same time she let go the drapery which she had held over her 
lap whilst sitting, and allowed it to fall on the ground. 

The next morning after breakfast I was visited by my Lady's 
Secretary — the only European, except the Doctor, whom she 
retained in her household. The Secretary, like the Doctor, w^as 
Italian, but he preserved more signs of European dress and 
European pretensions, than his medical fellow-slave. He spoke 
little or no English, though he wrote it pretty well, having been 
formerly employed in a mercantile house connected with England. 
The poor fellow was in an unhappy state of mind. In order to 
make you understand the extent of his spiritual anxieties, I 
ought to have told you that the Doctor (who had sunk into the 
complete Asiatic, and had condescended accordingly to the per- 
formance of even menial services) had adopted the common 
faith of all the neighboring people, and had become a firm and 
happy believer in the divine power of his mistress. Not so the 
Secretary ; when I had strolled with him to a distance from the 
building, which rendered him safe from being overheard by 
human ears, he told me in a hollow voice, trembling with emo- 
tion, that there w^ere times at which he doubted the divinity of 

Miledi." I said nothing to encourage the poor fellow in that 
frightful state of scepticism, which, if indulged, might end in 
positive infidelity. I found that her Ladyship had rather arbi- 
trarily abridged the amusements of her Secretary, forbidding 
him from shooting small birds on the mountain side. This 
oppression had roused in him a spirit of inquiry that might end 
fatally— perhaps for himself — perhaps for the " religion of the 
place." 



so 



EOTHEN. 



[chap VIHc 



The Secretary fold me that his Mistress was greatly disliked 
by the surrounding people whom she oppressed by her exactions, 
and the truth of this statement was borne out by the way in 
v/hich my Lady spoke to me of her neighbors. But in Eastern 
countries, hate and veneration are very commonly felt for the 
same object, and the general belief in the superhuman power of 
this wonderful white lady — her resolute and imperious char- 
acter, and above all, perhaps, her fierce Albanians (not back- 
ward to obey an order for the sacking of a village) inspired sin- 
cere respect amongst the surrounding inhabitants. Now the 
being respected" amongst Orientals, is not an empty, or merely 
honorary distinction, for, on the contrary, it carries with it a 
clear right to take your neighbor's corn, his cattle, his eggs, and 
his honey, and almost anything that is his, except his wives. 
This law was acted upon by the Princess of Djoun, and her 
establishment was supplied by contributions apportioned amongst 
the nearest of the villages. 

I understood that the Albanians (restrained, I suppose, by 
their dread of being delivered up to Ibrahim) had not given any 
very troublesome proofs of their unruly natures. The Secre- 
tary told me that their rations, including a small allowance of 
coffee and tobacco, were served out to them with tolerable regu- 
larity. 

I asked the Secretary, how Lady Hester was off for horses, 
and said that I would take a look at the stable ; the man did not 
raise any opposition to my proposal, and affected no mystery 
about the matter, but said that the only two steeds which then 
belonged lo her Ladyship were of a very humble sort ; this 
answer, and a storm of rain which began to descend, prevented 
me at the time from- undertaking my journey to the stable, 
which was at some distance from the part of the building in 
which I was quartered, and I don't know that I ever thought of 
the matter afterwards, until my return to England, when I saw 
Lamartine's eye-witnessing account of the horse saddled by the 
hands of his Maker ! 

When I returned to my apartment (which, as my hostess told 
me, was the only one in the whole building that kept out the rain) 



CHA> VIII.] 



LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 



81 



her Ladyship sent to say that she would be glad to receive me 
again ; I was rather surprised at this, for I had understood that 
she reposed during the day, and it was now little later than 
noon. Really," said she, when 1 had taken my seat and my 
pipe, " we were together for hours last night, and still I have 
heard nothing at all of my old friends : now do tell me some- 
thing of your dear mother and her sister ; I never knew your 
father— it was after I left Burton Pynsent that your mother mar- 
ried." I began to make slow answer, but my questioner soon 
went off again to topics more sublime, so that this second inter- 
view, which lasted two or three hours, was occupied with the 
same sort of varied discourse as that which I have been 
describing. 

In the course of the afternoon the captain of an English man- 
of-war arrived at Djoun, and her Ladyship determined to receive 
him for the same reason as that which had induced her to allow 
my visit — namely, an early intimacy with his family. I, and 
the new visitor, who w^as a pleasant, amusing person, dined 
together, and we were afterwards invited to the presence of my 
Lady, with whom we sat smoking and talking till midnight. The 
conversation turned chiefly, I think, upon magical science. I 
had determined to be off at an early hour the next morning, and 
so at the end of this interview I bade my Lady farewell. With 
her parting words she once more advised me to abandon Europe, 
and seek my reward in the East, and she urged me, too, to give 
the like counsels to my father, and tell him that " She had 
said it.'^ 

Lady Hester's unholy claim to sjupremacy in the spiritual 
kingdom was, no doubt, the suggestion of fierce and inordinate 
pride, most perilously akin to madness, but I am quite sure that the 
mind of the woman was too strong to be thoroughly overcome by 
even this potent feeling. I plainly saw that she was not an un- 
hesitating follower of her own system, and I even fancied thaC 
could distinguish the brief moments during which she contrived 
to believe in Herself, from those long and less happy intervals in 
which her own reason was too strong for her. 

As for the Lady's faith in Ast:-ology, and Magic Science, you 
are not for a moment to suppose that this implied any aberration 
7 



82 



EOTHEN. 



[CHAV vin 



of intellect. She believed these things in common with those 
around her, for she seldom spoke to anybody, except crazy old 
dervishes, who received her alms, and fostered her extrava- 
gances, and even when (as on the occasion of my visit) she was 
brought into contact with a person entertaining different notions, 
she still remained uncontradicted. This entourage, and the 
habit of fasting from books and newspapers, were quite enough 
to make her a facile recipient of any marvellous story. 

I think that in England we are scarcely sufficiently conscious 
of the great debt we owe to the wise and watchful press which 
presides over the formation of our opinions, and which brings 
about this splendid result, namely, that in matters of belief the 
humblest of us are lifted up to the level of the most sagacious, 
so that really a simple Cornet in the Blues is no more likely to 
entertain a foolish belief about ghosts or witchcraft, or any other 
supernatural topic, than the Lord High Chancellor or the Leader 
of the House of Commons. How different is the intellectual 
regime of Eastern countries ! In Syria, and Palestine, and 
Egypt, you might as well dispute the efficacy of grass or grain 
as of Magic. There is no controversy about the matter. The 
effect of this, the unanimous belief of an ignorant people, upon 
the mind of a stranger, is extremely curious, and well worth 
noticing. A man coming freshly from Europe is at first proof 
against the nonsense with which he is assailed, but often it hap- 
pens that after a little while the social atmosphere in which he 
lives will begin to infect him, and if he has been unaccustomed 
to the cunning of fence by which Reason prepares the means of 
guarding herself against fallacy, he will yield himself at last to 
the faith of those around him, and this he will do by sympathy, 
it would seem, rather- than from conviction. I have been much 
interested in observing that the mere " practical man," however 
skilful and shrewd in his own way, has not the kind of power 
which enables him to resist the gradual impression which is 
made upon his mind by the common opinion of those whom he 
sees and hears from day to day. Even amongst the English 
(whose good sense and sound religious knowledge would be 
likely to guard them from error), I have known the calculating 
merchant, the inquisitive traveller, and the post-captain, with his 



CHAP. VIII.] LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 



83 



bright, wakeful eye of command — I have known all these sur- 
render themselves to the really magic-like influence of other 
people's minds ; their language at first is, that they are stag- 
gered leading you by that expression to suppose that they had 
been witnesses to some phenomenon, which it was very difficult 
to account for, otherwise than by supernatural causes, but when 
1 have questioned further, I have always found that these stag- 
gering" wonders were not even specious enough to be looked 
upon as good " tricks.'^ A man in England, who gained his 
whole livelihood as a conjuror, would soon be starved to death 
if he could perform no better miracles than those which are 
wrought with so much effect in Syria and Egypt ; sometimes, no 
doubt, a magician will make a good hit (Sir Robert once said a 
good thing"), but all such successes range, of course, under the 
head of mere tentative m'racles," as distinguished by the 
strong- brained Paley. 



84 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. IX. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The Sanctuary. 

1 CROSSED the plain of Esdraelon, and entered amongst the 
hills of beautiful Galilee. It was at sunset that my path brought 
me sharply round into the gorge of a little valley, and close upon 
a grey mass of dwellings that lay happily nestled in the lap of 
the mountain. There was one onl}^ shining point still touched 
with the light of the sun, who had set for all besides ; a brave 
sign this to holy " Shereef, and the rest of my Moslem men, for 
the one glittering summit was the head of a minaret, and the 
rest of the seeming village that had veiled itself so meekly 
under the shades of evening was Christian Nazareth ! 

Within the precincts of the Latin convent in which I was 
quartered, there stands the great Catholic church which encloses 
the Sanctuary — the dwelling of the Blessed Virgin.* This is a 

* The Greek Church does not recognize this as the true Sanctuary, and 
many Protestants look upon all the traditions, by which it is attempted to 
ascertain the holy places of Palestine, as utterly fabulous. For myself, I do 
not mean either to affirm or deny the correctness of the opinion which has 
fixed upon this as the true site, but merely to mention it as a belief enter- 
tained, without question, by my brethren of the Latin church, whose guest 
I was at the time It w^ould be a great aggravation of the trouble of writing 
about these matters, if I were to stop in the midst of every sentence for the 
purpose of saying "so-called" or " so it is said," and would, besides, sound 
very ungraciously ; yet I am anxious to be literally true in all 1 write. Now, 
thus it is that I mean to get over my difficulty. Whenever, in this great 
bundle of papers, or book (if book it is to be), you see any words about mat- 
ters of religion which would seem to involve the assertion of my own 
opinion, you are to understand mcj just as if one or other of the qualifying 
phrases above mentioned, had been ictually inserted in every sentence. My 
general direction for you to construe me thus, will render all that I write a? 
strictly and accurately true, as if I had every time lugged in a formal decla- 
ration of the fact, that I was merely expressing the notions of other people 



OHAP. IX.] 



THE SANCTUARY. 



85 



grotto of about ten feet either way, forming a little chapel or 
rece&s, to which you descend by steps. It is decorated with 
splendor : on the left hand a column of granite hangs from the 
lop of the grotto, to within a few feet of the ground ; immediately 
beneath it is another column of the same size, which rises from 
the ground as if to meet the one above ; but between this and 
the suspended pillar, there is an interval of more than a foot ; 
these fragments once formed a single column, against which the 
angel leant, when he spoke, and told to Mary the mystery of her 
awful blessedness. Hard by, near the altar, the holy Virgin 
was kneeling. 

I had been journeying (cheerily indeed, for the voices of my 
followers were ever within my hearing, but yet) as it were, in 
solitude, for I had no comrade to whet the edge of my reason, 
or wake me from my noon-day dreams. I was left all alone to 
be taught and svv-ayed by the beautiful circumstances of Pales- 
tine travelling — by the clime, and the land, and the name of the 
land with all its mighty import — by the glittering freshness of 
the sward, and the abounding masses of flowers that furnished 
my sumptuous pathway — by the bracing and fragrant air, that 
seemed to poise me in my saddle, and to- lift me along like a 
planet appointed to glide through space. 

And the end of my journey was Nazareth — the home of the 
Blessed Virgin ! In the first dawn of my manhood, the old 
painters of Italy had taught me their dangerous v/orship of the 
beauty that is more than mortal, but those images all seemed 
shadowy now, and floated before me so dimly, the one overcast- 
ing the other, that they left me no one sweet idol on which I 
could look, and look again, and say, " Maria mia !" Yet they 
left me more than an idol — they left me (for to them I am wont 
to trace it) a faint apprehension of Beauty not compassed with 
lines and shadov/s — they touched me (forgive, proud Marie of 
Anjou !) they touched me with a faith in loveliness transcending 
mortal shapes. 

I came to Nazareth, and was led irom the convent to the 
Sanctuary. Long fasting will sometimes heat my brain, and 
draw me away out of the world — will disturb my judgment, 
confuse my notions of right and wrong, and weaken my power 



86 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. IX 



of choosing the right ; 1 had fasted perhaps too long, for I was 
fevered with the zeal of an insane devotion to the Heavenly 
Queen of Christendom. But I knew the feebleness of this gen- 
tle malady, and I knew how easily my watct'iful reason, if ever 
so slightly provoked, would drag me back to life ; let there but 
come one chilling breath of the outer woild, and all this loving 
piety would cower, and fly before the sound of my own bitter 
laugh. And so as I went, I trod tenderly, not looking to the 
right, nor to the left, but bending my eyes to the ground. 

The attending friar served me well — he led me down quietly, 
and all but silently to the Virgin's home. The mystic air was 
so burnt with the consuming flames of the altar, and so laden 
with incense, that my chest labored strongly, and heaved with 
luscious pain. There — there with beating heart the Virgin 
knelt, and listened ! I strived to grasp and hold with my rivet- 
ed eyes some one of the feigned Madonnas, but of all the 
heaven-lit faces imagined by men, there was none that wouU' 
abide with me in this the very Sanctuary. Impatient of va- 
cancy, I grew madly strong against Nature, and if by some 

awful spell — some impious rite, I could Oh ! most sweet 

Religion that bid me fear God, and be pious, and yet not cease 
from loving ! Religion and gracious Custom commanded me 
that ] fall down loyally, and kiss the rock that blessed Mary 
pressed. With a half consciousness — witli the semblance of a 
thrilling hope that I was plunging deep, deep into my first 
knowledge of some most holy mystery, or of some new, raptur- 
ous, and daring sin, I knelt, and bowed down my face till I met 
the smooth rock with my lips. One moment- — one moment — 
my heart, or some old Pagan demon within me woke up, and 
fiercely bounded — my bosom was lifted, and swung — as though 
I had touched Her warhi robe. One moment — one more, and 
then — the fever had left me. I rose from my knees. I felt 
hopelessly sane. The mere world re-appeared. My good old 
Monk was there, dangling his key with listless patience, and as 
he guided me from the Church, and talked of the Refectory, 
and the coming repast, I listeneo to his words with some atten* 
tion and pleasure. 



OHAP. X.] THE MONKS OF THE HOLY LAND. SI 



CHAPTER X. 

The Monks of the Holy Land. 

Whenever you come back to me from Palestine, we will find 
some " golden wine/"'* of Lebanon, that we may celebrate with 
apt libations the niDnks of the Holy Land, and, though the poor 
fellows be theoretically dead to the world,'' we will drink to 
every man of them a good, long life, and a merry one ! Grace- 
less is the traveller who forgets his obligations to these saints 
upon earth — little love has he for merry Christendom, if he has not 
rejoiced with great joy to find in the very midst of water-drink- 
ing infidels, those lowly monasteries, in which the blessed juice 
of the grape is quaffed in peace. Ay ! Ay ! We will fill our 
glasses till they look like cups of amber, and drink profoundly to 
our gracious hosts in Palestine. 

You would be likely enough to fancy that these monastics are 
men who have retired to the sacred sites of Palestine, from an 
enthusiastic longing to devote themselves to the exercise of reli- 
gion in the midst of the very land on which its first seeds were 
cast, and this is partially, at least, the case with the monks of 
the Greek Church, but it is not with enthusiasts that the Catholic 
establishments are filled. The monks of the Latin convents are 
chiefly persons of the peasant class, from Italy and Spain, who 
have been handed over to these remote asylums, by order of their 
ecclesiastical superiors, and can no more account for their being 
in the Holy Land, than men of marching regiments can explain 
why they are in stupid quarters." I believe that these monks 
are for the most part well conducted men, — punctual in their 
ceremonial duties, and altogether humble-minded Christians; 
their humility is not at all misplaced, for you see at a glance 
(poor fellows) that the y belong to the ^' lag remove" of the nu« 



* " Vino d'oro.'* 



88 



EOTHEN. 



[CHAF X. 



man race ; if the taking of the cowl does not imply a complete 
renouncement of the world, it is at least (in these days) a bona 
fide farewell to every kind of useful and entertaining knowledge, 
and accordingly, the low bestial brow, and the animal caste of 
those almost Bourbon features, show plainly enough that all the 
intellectual vanities of life have been really and truly abandon- 
ed. But it is hard to quench altogether the spirit of Inquiry that 
stirs in the human breast, and accordingly these monks inquire, 
— they are always inquiring — inquiring for news !" Poor fel- 
lows ! they could scarcely have yielded themselves to the sway 
of any passion more difficult of gratification, for they have no 
means of communicating with the journalized world, except 
through European travellers; and these in consequence, I sup- 
pose, of that restlessness and irritability which generally haunt 
their wanderings, seem to have always avoided the bore of giv- 
ing any information to their hosts ; as for me, I am more patient 
and good-natured, and when I found that the kind monks who 
gathered round me at Nazareth were longing to know the real 
truth about the General Bonaparte, who had recoiled from the 
siege of Acre, I softened my heart down to the good humor of 
Herodotus, and calmly began to " sing History," telling my 
eager hearers of the French Empire, and the greatness of its 
glory, and of Waterloo, and the fall of Napoleon ! Now my 
story of this marvellous ignorance on the part of the poor monks 
is one upon which (though depending on my own testimony) I 
look " with considerable suspicion it is quite true (how silly it 
would be to invent anything so witless !) and yet I think I could 
satisfy the mind of a " reasonable man," that it is false. Many 
of the older monks must have been in Europe at the time when the 
Italy and the Spain from which they came, were in the act of 
taking their French lessons, or had parted so lately with their 
teachers, that not to know of the Emperor," was impossible, and 
these men could scarcely, therefore, have failed to bring with 
them some tidings of Napoleon's career. Yet I say that that 
which I have written is true, — the one who believes because I 
have said it, will be right — (she always Is), while poor Mr. " rea- 
sonable man," who is convinced by the weight of my argument, 
will be completely deceived. 



CHAP. X.] 



THE MONKS OF THi: HOLY LAND. 



89 



In Spanish politics, however, the monks are better instructed , 
the revenues of the monasteries, v/hich had been principally 
supplied by the bounty of their most Catholic Majesties, have 
been withheld since FerdiYiand's death, and the interests of these 
establishments being thus closely involved in the destinies of 
Spain, it is not w^onderful that the brethren should be a little more 
knowing in Spanish affairs, than in other branches of history. 
Besides, a large proportion of the monks w^ere natives of the 
Peninsula ; to these, I remember, Mysseri^s familiarity with the 
Spanish language and character was a source of immense 
delight ; they were always gathering around him, and it seemed 
to me that they treasured like gold the few Castilian v/ords 
which he deigned to spare them. 

Christianity permits and sanctions the drinking of wine, and of 
all the holy brethren of Palestine, there are none who hold fast 
to this gladsome rite so strenuously as the monks of Damascus ; 
not that they are more zealous Christians than the rest of their 
fellows in the Holy Land, but that they have better wine. 
Whilst I was at Damascus, I had my quarters at the Franciscan 
convent there, and very soon after my arrival I asked one of the 
monks to let me know something of the spots w^hich deserved to 
be seen ; I made my inquiry in reference to the associations 
with which the city had been hallowed by the sojourn and adven- 
tures of St. Paul. There is nothing in all Damascus," said 
the good man, half so well worth seeing as our cellars," and 
forthwith he invited me to go, see, and admire the long ranges 
of liquid treasure which he and his brethren had laid up for 
themselves on earth. And these, I soon found, were not as the 
treasures of the miser that lie in unprofitable disuse, for day by 
day, and hour by hour, the golden juice ascended from the dark 
recesses of the cellar to the uppermost brains of the monks ; 
dear old fellows ! in the midst of that solemn land, their Christian 
laughter rang loudly and merrily — their eyes flashed with 
unceasing bonfires, and their heavy woollen petticoats could no 
more weigh down the springiness of their paces, than the nominal 
gauze of a danseuse can clog her bounding step. 

The monks do a world of good in their w^ay, and there can be 
no doubting that previously to the arrival of Bishop Alexande 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. X. 



with his numerous 5'oung family, and his pretty English nurse- 
maids, they were the chief Propagandists of Christianity in Pa- 
lestine. My old friends of the Franciscan convent at Jerusalem, 
some time since, gave proof of theiV goodness by delivering 
themselves up to the peril of death for the sake of Duty. When 
I was their guest, they were forty, I believe, in number, and I 
don't recollect that there was one of them whom I should have 
looked upon as a desirable life-holder of any property to which 
1 might be entitled in expectancy. Yet these forty were reduced 
in a few days to nineteen ; the Plague was the messenger that 
summoned them to a taste of real death, but the circumstances 
under which they perished are rather curious, and though I have 
no authority for the story except an Italian newspaper, I harbor 
no doubt of its truth, for the facts were detailed with minuteness, 
and strictly correspond with all that I knew of the poor fellows 
to v/hom they related. 

It was about three months after the time of my leaving Jeru- 
salem, that the Plague set his spotted foot on the Holy City. 
The monks felt great alarm ; they did not shrink from their 
duty, but for its performance they chose a plan most sadly well 
fitted for bringing down upon them the very death which they 
were striving to ward off. They imagined themselves almost 
safe, so long as they remained within their walls ; but then it 
was quite needful that the Catholic Christians of the place, who 
had always looked to the convent for the supply of their spiritual 
wants, should receive the aids of religion in the hour of death. 
A single monk, therefore, was chosen either by lot, or by some 
other fair appeal to Destiny ; being thus singled out, he was to 
go forth into the plague-stricken city, and to perform with exact- 
ness his priestly duties-; then he was to return, not to the interior 
of the Convent, for fear of infecting his brethren, but to a de- 
tached building (which I remember) belonging to the establish- 
ment, but at some little distance from the inhabited rooms ; he 
was provided with a bell, and at a certain hour in the morning 
he was ordered to ring it, if he could ; but if no sound was heard 
at the appointed time, then knew his brethren that he was either 
delirious, or dead, and another martyr was sent forth to take his 
place. In this way twenty-on« of the monks were carried off. 



CHAP. X.] 



THE MONKS OF THE HOLY LAND. 



91 



One cannot well fail to admire the steadiness with which the dis- 
mal scheme was carried through ; but if there be any truth in 
the notion, that disease may be invited by a frightening imagi- 
nation, it is difficult to conceive a more dangerous plan than that 
which was chosen by these poor fellows. The anxiety with 
which they must have expected each day the sound of the bell — ■ 
the silence that reigned mstead of it, and then the drawing of 
the lots (the odds against death being one point lower than yes- 
terday) and the going forth of the newly doomed man — all this 
must have widened the gulf that opens to the shades below ; 
when his victim had already suffered so much of mental torture, 
it was but easy work for big, bullying Pestilence to follow a for- 
lorn monk from the beds of the dying, and Avrench away his 
life from him, as he lay all alone in an outhouse. 

In most, I believe in all of the Holy Land convents, there are 
two personages so sti'angely raised above their brethren in all 
that dignifies humanity, that their bearing the same habit — their 
dwelling under the same roof — their worshipping the same God 
(consistent as all this is with the spirit of their religion), yet 
strikes the mind with a sense of wondrous incongruity ; the men 
I speak of are the Padre Superiore," and the Padre Mission- 
ario." The former is the supreme and absolute governor of the 
establishment, over w^hich he is appointed to rule ; the latter is 
entrusted with the more active of the spiritual duties which 
attach to the Pilgrim Church. He is the shepherd of the good 
Catholic flock whose pasture is prepared in the midst of Mussul- 
mans and schism.atics — he keeps the light of the true faith ever 
vividly before their eyes — reproves their vices— supports them 
in their good resolves — consoles them in their afHictions, and 
teaches them to hate the Greek church. Such are his labors, 
and you may conceive that great tact must be needed for con- 
ducting with success the spiritual interests of the church under 
circumstances so odd as those which surround it in Palestine. 

But the position of the Padre Superiore is still more delicate ; 
he is almost unceasingly in treaty with the powers that be, and 
the worldly prosperity of the establishment over which he pre- 
sides, is in great measure dependent upon the extent of diplo- 
matic skill which 1 e can employ in its favor. I know not from 



92 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. X 



what class of churchmen these personages are chosen, for there 
is a mystery attending their origin, and the circumstance of their 
being stationed in these convents, which Rome does not suffer to 
be penetrated : I have heard it said that they are men of great 
note, and perhaps, of too high ambition in the Catholic Hierar- 
chy, who, having fallen under the grave censure of the Church, 
are banished for fixed periods to these distant monasteries. I 
believe that the term during which they are condemned to remain 
in the Holy Land, is from eight to twelve years. By the natives 
of the country, as v/ell as by the rest of the brethren, they are 
looked upon as superior beings ; and rightly too, for nature 
seems to have crowned them in her own true way. 

The chief of the Jerusalem convent was a noble creature; 
his worldly and spiritual authority seemed to have surrounded 
him, as it were, with a kind of " Court," and the manly grace- 
fulness of his bearing did honor to the throne which he filled. 
There were no lords of the bedchamber, and no gold sticks and 
stones in waiting, yet everybody who approached him looked as 
though he were being " presented " — every interview which he 
granted wore the air of an " audience the brethren, as often 
as they came near, bov*^ed low, and kissed his hand, and if he 
went cut, the Catholics of the place that hovered about the con- 
vent, would crowd around him with devout affection, and almost 
scramble for the blessing which his touch could give. He bore 
his honors all serenely; as though calmly conscious of his power 
to " bind and to loose." 



CHA.P. XI.] FROM NAZARETH TO TIBERIAS. 93 



CHAPTER XI. 

From Nazareth to Tiberias. 

Neither old "Sacred himself, nor any of his helpers, knew 
the road which I meant to take from Nazareth to the Sea of 
Galilee, and from thence to Jerusalem, so I was forced to add 
another to my party, by hiring a guide. The associations of 
Nazareth, as well as my kind feeling towards the hospitable 
monks, whose guest I had been, inclined me to set at naught the 
advice which I had received against emplo3^ing Christians. I 
accordingly engaged a lithe, active young Nazarene, who was 
recommended to me by the monks, and who affected to be 
familiar with the line of country through which I intended to 
pass. My disregard of the popular prejudice against Chris- 
tians was not justified in this particular instance, by the result 
of my choice. This you will see by and by. 

I passed by Cana, and the house in which the w^ater had been 
turned into wine — I came to the field in which our Saviour had 
rebuked the Scotch Sabbath-keepers of that period, by suffering 
his disciples to pluck corn on the Lord's day ; I rode over the 
ground on which the fainting multitude had been fed, and they 
showed me some massive fragments — the relics, they said, of 
that wondrous banquet, now turned into stone. The petrifac 
tion was most complete. 

I ascended the heio;ht on which our Lord was standing when 
he wrought the miracle. The hill was lofty enough to show me 
the fairness of the land on all sides, but I have an ancient love 
for the mere features of a lake, and so forgetting all else when 
I reached the summit, I looked away eagerly to the Eastward. 
There she lay, the Sea of Galilee. Less stern than Wastwater 



* Shereef. 



94 



EOTHEF. 



[chap. XI, 



— less fair than gentle Windermere, she had still the winning 
ways of an English lake ; she caught from the smiling heavens 
unceasing light, and changeful phases of beauty, and with all 
this brightness on her face, she yet clung so fondly to the dull 
he looking mountain at her side as though she would 

" Soothe him with her finer fancies, 
Touch him with her lighter thought."* 

If one might judge of men's real thoughts by their writings, 
it would seem that there are people who can visit an interesting 
locality, and follow up continuously the exact train of thought 
which ought to be suggested by the historical associations of the 
place. A person of this sort can go to Athens, and think of 
nothing later than the age of Pericles — can live with the Scipios 
as long as he stays in Rome — can go up in a balloon, and think 
how resplendently in former times the now vacant and desolate 
air was peopled with angels — how prettily it was crossed at in- 
tervals by the rounds of Jacob's ladder ! I don't possess this 
power at all : it is only by snatches, and for few moments to- 
gether, that I can really associate a place with its proper history. 

^' There at Tiberias, and along this w^estern shore towards the 
North, and upon the bosom too of the lake, our Saviour and his 

disciples " away flew those recollections, and my mind strain- 

ed Eastward, because that that farthest shore was the end of the 
world that belongs to man the dweller — the beginning of the 
other and veiled world that is held by the strange race, w^hose 
life (like the pastime of Satan) is a going to and fro upon the 
face of the earth." From those grey hills right away to the 
gates of Bagdad stretched forth the mysterious Desert"— not 
a pale, void, sandy tract, but a land abounding in rich pastures 
— aland without cities or towns, without any "respectable" 
people, or any " respectable things," yet yielding its eighty 
thousand cavalry to the beck of a few old men. But once 
more — " Tiberias — the plain of Gennesareth-— the very earth on 
which I stood — that the deep, low tones of the Saviour's voice 
should have gone forth into Eternity from out of the midst of 



* Tennyson. 



CHAP. XI.] FROM NAZARETH TO TIBERIAS. 



95 



these hills,' and these valleys !" — Ay, ay, but yet again the calm 
face of the Lake was uplifted, and smiled upon my eyes with 
such familiar gaze, that the " deep low tones " were hushed — 
the listening m.ultitudes all passed away, and instead there came 
to me a dear old memory from over the seas in England — a 
memory sweeter than veriest Gospel to that poor, wilful mor. 
tal, me. 

1 went to Tiberias, and soon got afloat upon the water. In 
the evening I took up my quarters in the Catholic Church, and, 
the building being large enough, the whole of my party were 
admitted to the benefit of the same shelter. With portmanteaus, 
and carpet bags, and books, and maps, and fragrant tea, Mys- 
seri soon made me a home on the southern side of the church - 
One of old Shereef 's helpers was an enthusiastic Catholic, and 
was greatly delighted at having so sacred a lodging. He lit up 
the altar with a number of tapers, and when his preparations 
were complete, he began to perform his orisons in the strangest 
manner imaginable ; his lips muttered the prayers of the Latin 
Church, but he bowed himself down, and laid his forehead to 
the stones beneath him, after the manner of a Mussulman. The 
universal aptness of a religious system for all stages of civilisa- 
tion, and for all sorts and conditions of men, well befits its clain 
of divine origin. She is of all nations, and of all times, that won 
derful Church of Rome ! 

Tiberias is one of the four holy cities,* according to the 
Talmud, and it is from this place or the immediate neighborhood 
of it, that the Messiah is to arise. 

Except at Jerusalem, never think of attempting to sleep in a 
"holy city." Old Jews from all parts of the world go to lay 
their bones upon the sacred soil, and as these people never re- 
turn to their homes, it follows that any domestic vermin which 
they may bring with them are likely to become permanently 
resident, so that the population is continually increasing. No 
recent census had been taken when I was at Tiberias, but I 
know that the congregation of fleas which attended at my church 



* The other three cities held holy by Jews are Jerusalem, Hebron, and 
Safet. 



96 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XI 



alone, must have been something enormous. It was a carnal, 
self-seeking congregation, wholly inattentive to the service 
which was going on, and devoted to the one object of having 
my blood. The fleas of all nations were there. The smug, 
steady, importunate flea from Holywell street — the pert, jump- 
ing "puce" from hungry France — the wary, watchful '^pulce'' 
with his poisoned stiletto — the vengeful " pulga" of Castile with 
his ugly knife — the German ''floh" with his knife and fork — 
insatiate — not rising from table — whole swarms from all the 
Russias, and Asiatic hordes unnumbered — all these were there, 
and all rejoiced in one great international feast. I could no 
more defend myself against my enemies, than if I had been 
" pain a discretion" in the hands of a French patriot, or Eng- 
lish gold in the claws of a Pennsylvanian Quaker. After 
passing a night like this, you are glad to pick up the wretched 
remains of your body, long, long before morning dawns. Your 
skin is scorched — your temples throb — your lips feel withered 
and dried — your burning eye-balls are screwed inwards against 
the brain. You have no hope but only in the saddle, and the 
freshness of the morning air. 



CHAP. XII. J 



MY FIRST BIVOUAC. 



97 



CHAPTER XIL 
My first Bivouac. 

The course of the Jordan is from the north to the south, and in 
that direction, Avith very little of devious v/inding, it carries the 
shining waters of Galilee straight down into the solitudes of the 
Dead Sea. Speaking roughly, the river in that meridian, is a 
boundary between the people living under roofs, and the tented 
tribes that wander on the farther side. And so, as 1 went down 
in my way from Tiberias towards Jerusalem, along the western 
bank of the stream, my thinking all propended to the ancient 
, world of herdsmen, and warriors, that lay so close over my 
bridle arm. 

If a man, and an Englishman, be not born of his m.other with 
a natural Chiftney-bit in his mouth, there comes to him a time 
for loathing the wearisome ways of society — a time for not liking 
tamed people — a time for not dancing quadrilles — not sitting in 
pews — a time for pretending that Milton, and Shelley, and all 
sorts of mere dead people, were greater in death than the tirst 
living Lord of the Treasury — a tim.e in short for scoffing and 
railing — for speaking lightly of the very opera, and all our most 
cherished institutions. It is from nineteen, to two or three and 
twenty perhaps, that this w^ar of the man against men is like to 
be v/aged most sullenly. You are yet in this smiling England, 
but you find yourself wending av/ay to the dark sides of her 
mountains, — climbing the dizzy crags, — exulting in the fellow- 
ship of mists and clouds, and v/atching the storms how they 
gather, er proving the mettle of your mare upon the broad and 
dreary downs, because that you feel congenially with the yet 
unparcelled earth. A little while you are free, and unlabelled, 
ike the ground that you compass, but Civilisation is comings 
tind coming ; you, and your much loved v/aste lands will be 



98 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XIX. 



surely inclosed, and sooner, or later, you will be brought down 
to a state of utter usefulness — -the ground will be curiously 
sliced into acres, and roods, and perches, and you, for all you 
sit so smartly in your saddle, you will be caught — you will 
be taken up from travel, as a colt from grass, to be trained, 
f,nd tired, and matched, and run. All this in time, but first 
( ome continental tours, and the moody longing for Eastern 
tr^'^el; the downs and the moors of England can hold you no 
longer ; with larger stride you burst aw^ay from these slips and 
patches of free land — you thread your path through the crowds 
of Europe, and at last on the banks of Jordan, you joyfully 
know that you are upon the very frontier of all accustomed re- 
spectabilities. There, on the other side of the river (you can 
swim it with one arm), there reigns the people that will be like 
to put you to death for not being a vagrant, for not being a rob- 
ber, for not being armed, and houseless. There is comfort in 
that — health, comfort, and strength to one who is dying from 
very weariness of that poor, dear, middle-aged, deserving, ac- 
complished, pedantic, and pains-taking governess Europe. 

I had ridden for some hours along the right bank of Jordan, 
when I came to the Djesr el Medjame (an old Roman bridge, 1 
believe), which crossed the river. My Nazarene guide was 
riding ahead of the party, and now, to my surprise and delight, 
he turned leftwards, and led on over the bridge. I knew that 
the true road to Jerusalem must be mainly by the right bank of 
Jordan, but I supposed that my guide was crossing the bridge at 
this spot in order to avoid some bend in the river, and that he 
knew of a ford lower down by which we should regain the west- 
ern bank. I made no question about the road, for I was but 
too glad to set my horse's hoofs upon the land of the wandering 
tribes. None of my party, except the Nazarene, knew the 
country. On we went through rich pastures upon the Eastern 
side of the water. I looked for the expected bend of the river, 
but far as I could see, it kept a straight southerly course ; 1 still 
left my guide unquestioned. 

The Jordan is not a perfectly accurate boundary heiw] roofs 
End tents, for soon after passing the bridge I came upon a clus. 
er of huts. Some time afterwards the guide, upon being closely 



CHAP. XII.] 



MY FIRST BIVOUAC. 



99 



questioned by my servants, confessed that the village which we 
had left behind was the last that we should see, but he de- 
clared that he knew a spot at which we should find an encamp- 
ment of friendly Bedouins, who would receive me with all hos 
pitality. I had long determined not to leave the East without 
seeing something of the wandering tribes, but I had looked for- 
ward to this as a pleasure to be found in the Desert between El 
Arish and Egypt — I had no idea that the Bedouins on the East 
of Jordan were accessible. My delight was so great at the near 
prospect of bread and salt in the tent of an Arab warrior, that I 
wilfully allowed my guide to go on and mislead me ; I saw that 
he was taking me out of the straight route towards Jerusalem, 
and was drawing me into the midst of the Bedouins, but the idea 
of his betraying me seemed (I know not why) so utterly absurd, 
that I could not entertain it for a moment ; I fancied it possible 
that the fellow had taken me out of my route in order to attempt 
some little mercantile enterprise with the tribe for which he was 
seeking, and I was glad of the opportunity which I might thus 
gain of coming in contact with the wanderers. 

Not long after passing the village, a horseman met us ; it ap- 
peared that some of the cavalry of Ibrahim Pasha had crossed 
the river for the sake of the rich pastures on the eastern bank, 
and that this man was one of the troopers ; he stopped, and 
saluted ; he was obviously surprised at meeting an unarmed, or 
half-armed cavalcade, and at last fairly told us that we were on 
the wrong side of the river, and that if we proceeded, we must 
lay our account with falling amongst robbers. All this while, 
and throughout the day, my Nazarene kept well ahead of the 
party, and was constantly up in his stirrups, straining forward, 
and searching the distance for some objects which still remained 
unseen. 

For the rest of the day we saw no human being ; we pushed 
on eagerly in the hope of coming up with the Bedouins before 
nightfall. Night came, and we still v/ent on in our way till about 
ten o'clock. Then the thorough darkness of the night and the 
weariness of our beasts (which had already done two good days' 
journey in one) forced us to determine upon coming to a stand 
still. Upon the heights to the eastward we saw lights ; these 



100 



E3THEN. 



[chap. XII. 



shone from caves on the mountain-side, inhabited, as the Naza- 
lene told us, by rascals of a low sort — not real Bedouins — men 
whom we might frighten into harmlessne-ss, but from whom there 
was no willing hospitality to be expected. 

We heard at a little distance the brawling of a rivulet, and on 
the banks of this it was determined to establish our bivouac ; v^e 
soon found the stream, and following its course for a few yards, 
came to a spot v/hich was thought to be fit for our purpose. It 
was a sharply cold night in February, and when I dismounted I 
found myself standing upon some wet, rank herbage, that pro- 
mised ill for the comfort of our resting-place. I had bad hopes 
of a fire, for the pitchy darkness of the night was a great obsta- 
cle to any successful search for fuel, and besides, the boughs of 
trees or bushes would be so full of sap in this early spring, that 
they would not be easily persuaded to burn. However, we were 
not likely to submit to a dark and cold bivouac without an effort, 
and my fellows groped forward through the darkness, till after 
advancing a few paces, they were happily stopped by a complete 
barrier of dead prickly bushes. Before our swords could be 
drawn to reap this glorious harvest, it was found, to our surprise, 
that the precious fuel was already hewn, and strewed along the 
ground in a thick mass. A spot fit for the fire was found with 
some difficulty, for the earth was moist, and the grass high and 
rank. At last there was a clicking of flint and steel, and pre- 
sently there stood out from darkness one of the tawny faces of 
my muleteers, bent down to near the ground, and suddenly lit 
up by the glowing of the spark, which he courted with careful 
breath. Before long there was a particle of dry fibre, or leaf, 
that kindled to a tiny flame ; then another v/as lit from that, and 
then another. Then smaL, crisp twigs, little bigger than bod- 
kins, were laid athwart the growing fire. The swelling cheeks 
of the muleteer laid level v/ith the earth, blew tenderly at first,, 
and then more boldly, upon the young flame, which was daintily 
nursed and fed, and fed more plentifully when it gained good 
strength. At last a vv^hole armful of dry bushes was piled up 
over the fire, and presently with loud, cheery cracking and 
crackling, a royal tall blaze shot up from the earth, and showed 
me once more the shapes and faces of my men, and the dim out- 
lines of the horses and mules that stood grazing hard by. 



CHAI . XII.] 



MY FIRST BIVOUAC. 



101 



My se-rvants busied themselves in unpacking the baggage, as 
though we had arrived at an hotel — Shereef and his helpers un- 
saddled their cattle. We had left Tiberias witliout the slightest 
idea that we were to make our way to Jerusalem along the deso- 
late side of the Jordan, and my servants (generally provident in 
those matters) had brought with them only, I think, some unlea- 
vened bread, and a rocky fragment of goat's-milk cheese. 
These treasures were produced. Tea, and the contrivances for 
making it, v/ere always a standing part of my baggage. My 
men gathered in circle around the fire. The Nazarene v^as in 
a false position, from having misled us so strangely, and he 
would have shrunk back, poor devil, into the cold and outer 
darkness, but I made him draw neai, and share the luxuries of 
the night. My quilt and my peliss3 were spread, and the rest 
of my party had all their capotes, or pelisses, or robes of some 
sort, which furnished their couches. The men gathered in cir- 
cle, some kneeling, some sitting, some lying reclined around our 
common hearth. Sometimes on one, sometim.es on another, the 
flickering light w^ould glare more fiercely. Sometimes it was 
the good Shereef tliat seemed the foremost, as he sat with vene- 
rable beard, the image of manly piety — unknowing of all 
geography, unknowing where he was, or whither he might go, 
but trusting in the goodness of God, and the clenching power of 
fate, and the good star of the Englishman. Sometimes like 
marble, the classic face of the Greek Mysseri would catch the 
sudden light, and then again by turns the ever-perturbed Dthe- 
metri, with his odd Chinaman's eyes, and bristling, terrier-like 
moustache, shone forth illustrious. 

I always liked the men who attended me on these Eastern 
ti'avels, for they were all of them brave, cheery-hearted fellows, 
and although their following my career brought upon liem a 
pretty large share of those toils and hardships which are so much 
more amusing to gentlemen than to servants, yet not one of 
them ever uttered or hinted a syllable of complaint, or even 
affected to put on an air of resignation ; I always liked them, 
but never perhaps so much as when they were thus grouped 
together under the light of the bivouac fire. I felt towards 
Ihern as my comrades, rather than as my servants, and took 



102 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XII 



delight in breaking bread with them, and merrily passi ig the 
cup. 

The love of tea is a glad source of fellow-feeling between 
the Englishman and the Asiatic ; in Persia it ^'s drunk by all, 
and although it is a luxury that is rarely within the reach of the 
Osmanlees, there are few of them who do not know and love the 
blessed ^'tchli.'^ Our camp-kettle filled from the brock hum- 
med doubtfully for awhile — then busily bubbled under the side- 
long glare of the flames — cups clinked and rattled — the fragrant 
steam ascended, and soon this little circlet in the wilderness 
grew warm and genial as my lady's drawing-room. 

And after this there came the tchibouque — great comforter of 
those that are hungry and way-worn. And it has this virtue — 
it helps to destroy the gene and awkwardness w^hich one some- 
times feels at being in company with one's dependents ; for 
whilst the amber is at your lips, there is nothing ungracious in 
your remaining silent, or speaking pithily in short inter-whiff 
sentences. And for us that night there was pleasant and plen- 
tiful matter of talk ; for the where we should be on the morrow, 
and the wherewithal we should be fed — whether by some ford 
we should regain the western banks of Jordan, or find bread and 
salt under the tents of a wandering tribe, or whether we should 
fall into the hands of the Philistines, and so come to see Death — 
the last, and greatest of all the fine sights" that there be— 
these were questionings not dull nor wearisome to us, for we 
were all concerned in the answers. And it was not an ill- 
imagined morrow that we probed with our sharp guesses, for the 
lights of those low Philistines— the men of the caves still hung 
over our heads, and we knew by their yells that the fire of our 
bivouac had shown us. 

At length we thought it well to seek for sleep. Our plans 
were laid for keeping up a good watch through the night. My 
quilt, and my pelisse, and my cloak, were spread out so that 
I might lie spokewise, with my feet towards the central fire. I 
wrapped my limbs daintily round, and gave myself positive 
orders to sleep like a veteran soldier. But I found that my 
attempt to sleep upon the earth that God gave me was more 
new and strange than I had fancied it. 1 had grown used to 



CHAP. XII.J 



MY" FIRST BIVOUAC. 



103 



the scen6 which was before me whilst I was sitting, or reclining 
by the side of the fire, but now that I laid myself down at length, 
it was the deep black mystery of the heavens that hung over my 
eyes — not an earthly thing in the way from my own very fore- 
head right up to the end of all space. I grew proud of my 
boundless bel-chamber. I might have " found sermons" ir a.^ 
this greatness (if I had I should surely have slept), but such was 
not then my way. If this cherished Self of mine had built the 
Universe, I should have dwelt with delight on the wonders of 
creation.'* As it was, I felt rather the vain-glory of my pro- 
motion from out of mere rooms and houses into the midst of that 
grand, dark, infinite palace. 

And then, too, mj head, far from the fire, was in cold lati- 
tudes, and it seemed to me strange that I should be lying so 
still, and passive, whilst the sharp night breeze walked free 
over my cheek, and the cold damp clung to my hair, as though 
my face grew in the earth, and must bear with the footsteps of 
the wind, and the falling of the dew, as meekly as the grass of 
the field. Besides, I got puzzled and distracted by having to 
endure heat and cold at the same time, for I was always con- 
sidering whether my feet were not over-devilled, and whether 
my face was not too well iced. And so when from time to time 
the watch quietly and gently kept up the languishing fire, he 
seldom, I think, was unseen to my restless eyes. Yet, at last, 
when they called me, and said that the morn would soon be 
dawning, I rose from a state of half-oblivion, not much unlike 
to sleep, though sharply qualified by a sort of vegetable's con- 
sciousness of having been growirg still colder and colder, for 
many, and many an hour. 



i04 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XIIJ 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The Dead Sea. 

The grey light of the morning showed us for the first time, the 
ground which we had chosen for our resting-place. We found 
that we had bivouacked upon a little patch of barley, plainly 
belonging to the men of the caves. The dead bushes which we 
found so happily placed in readiness for our fire, had been 
strewn as a fence for the protection of the little crop. This 
v/as the only cultivated spot of ground which we had seen for 
many a league, and I was rather sorry to find that our night 
fire and our cattle had spread so much ruin upon this poor soli- 
tary slip of corn land. 

The saddling and loading of our beasts, was a work which 
generally took nearly an hour, and before this was half over, 
daylight came. We could now see the men of the caves. 
They collected in a body, amounting, I should think, to nearly 
fifty, and rushed down towards our quarters with fierce shouts 
and yells. But the nearer they came, the slower they went ; 
their shouts grew less resolute in tone, and soon ceased alto- 
gether. The fellows advanced to a thicket within thirty yards 
of us, and behind this took up their position." My men with- 
out premeditation did exactly that which was best ; they kept 
steadily to their work of loading the beasts without fuss, or 
hurry, and whether it was that they instinctively felt the wisdom 
of keeping quiet, or that they merely obeyed the natural incli- 
nation to silence, which one feels in the early morning — I can- 
not tell, but I know that except when they exchanged a syllable 
or two relative to the work they v/ere about, not a word was 
said. I now believe, that this quietness of our party created 
an undefined terror in the minds of the cave-holders, and scared 
them from coming on ; it gave them a notion that we were re- 



CHAP. XIII.] 



THE DEAD SEA. 



105 



lying on some resources which they knew not of. Several 
times the fellows tried to lash themselvps into a state of excite- 
ment which might do instead of pluck. They would raise a 
great shout, and sway forward in a dense body from behind the 
thicket ; but when they saw that their bravery, thus gathered 
to a head, did not even suspend the strapping of a portmanteau, 
or the tying of a hat- box, their shout lost its spirit;, and the whole 
mass was irresistibly drawn back like a wave receding from 
the shore. 

These attempts at an onset were repeated several times, but 
always with the same result ; I remained under the apprehen- 
sion of an attack for more than half an hour, and it seemed to 
me that the work of packing and loading had never been done 
so slowly. I felt inclined to tell my fellows to make their best 
speed, but just as I was going to speak, I observed that every 
one was doing his duty already ; I therefore held my peace, and 
said not a word, till at last Mysseri led up my horse, and asked 
me if I were ready to mount. 

We all marched off without hindrance. 

After some time, we came across a party of Ibrahim's cavalry, 
which had bivouacked at no great distance from us. The 
knowledge that such a force was in the neighborhood may have 
conduced to the forbearance of the cave-holders. 

We saw a scraggy-looking fellow nearly black, and wearing 
nothing but a cloth round the loins ; he was tending flocks. 
Afterwards I came up with another of these goat-herds, whose 
helpmate was with him. They gave us some goat's-milk, a wel- 
come present. I pitied the poor devil of a goat-herd for having 
such a very plain wife. I spend an enormous quantity of pity 
upon that particular form of human misery. 

About mid-day I began to examine my m.ap, and to question 
my guide, who at last fell on his knees and confessed that he 
knew nothing of the country in which we were. I was thus 
thrown upon my own resources, and calculating that on the pre- 
ceding day, we had nearly performed a two days' jou.^ney, I 
concluded that the Dead Sea must be near. In this I was right, 
for at about three or four o'clock in tt e afternoon, I caught a 
first sight of its dismal face. 



106 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XIII. 



I went on, and came near to those waters of Death ; they 
stretched deeply into the southern desert, and before me, and all 
around, as far away as the eye could follow, blank hills piled 
high over iiills, pale, yellow, and naked, walled up in her tomb 
for ever, the dead, and damned Gomorrah. There was no fly 
that hummed in the forbidden air, but instead a deep stillness — 
no grass grew from the earth — no weed peered through the void 
sand, but in mockery of all life, there were trees borne down by 
Jordan in some ancient flood, and these grotesquely planted upon 
the forlorn shore, spread out their grim skeleton arms all scorch- 
ed, and charred to blackness, by the heats of the long, silent 
years. 

I now struck ofl* towards the debouchure of the river ; but I 
found that the country, though seemingly quite flat, was inter- 
sected by deep ravines, which did not show themselves until 
nearly approached. For some time my progress was much 
obstructed ; but at last I came across a track which led towards 
the river, and which might, as I hoped, bring me to a ford. I 
found, in fact, when 1 came to the river's side, that the track 
reappeared upon the opposite banks, plainly showing that the 
stream had been fordable at this place. Now, however, in con- 
sequence of the late rains, the river was quite impracticable for 
baggage horses. A body of waters, about equal to the Thames 
at Eton, but confined to a narrower channel, poured down in a 
current so swift and heavy, that the idea of passing with laden 
baggage horses was utterly forbidden. I could have swum 
across myself, and I might, perhaps, have succeeded in swim- 
ming a horse over. But this would have been useless, because 
in such case I must have abandoned, not only my baggage, but 
all my attendants, for none of them were able to swim, and 
without that resource, it would have been madness for them to 
rely upon the swimming of their beasts across such a powerful 
stream. I still hoped, however, that there might be a chance of 
passing the river at the point of its actual junction with the Dead 
Sea, and I therefore went on in that direction. 

Night came upon us whilst laboring across gullies, and sandy 
mounds, and we were obliged to come to a stand-still quite sud- 
ienly, upon the very edge of a precipitous descent. Every step 



CHAi . XIII,] 



THE DEAD SEA. 



107 



towards the Dead Sea had brought us into a country more and 
more dreary ; and this sand-hill, which we were forced to choose 
for our resting-place, was dismal enough. A few slender blades 
of grass, which here and there singly pierced the sand, mocked 
bitterly the hunger of our jaded beasts, and with our small 
remaining fragment of goat's milk rock, by way of supper., we 
were not much better off than our horses ; we wanted, too, tie 
great requisite of a cheery bivouac — fire. Moreover, the spot on 
which we had been so suddenly brought to a stand-still was rela- 
tively high, and unsheltered, and the night wind blew swiftly 
and cold. 

The next morning I reached the debouchure of the Jordan, 
where I had hoped to find a bar of sand that might render its 
passage possible. The river, however, rolled its eddying waters 
fast down to the sea,'' in a strong deep stream that shut out all 
hope of crossing. It was always said that no vegetation could 
live in the neighborhood of the Dead Sea, but now I began to 
look upon my party and myself as forming a very fine planta- 
tion for never in the hunting sense of the term were men more 
thoroughly planted." 

It now seemed necessary either to construct a raft of some 
kind, or else to retrace my steps, and remount the banks of the 
Jordan. I had once happened to give some attention to the sub- 
ject of military bridges — a branch of military science which 
includes the construction of rafts, and contrivances of the like 
sort, and I should have been very proud indeed, if I could have 
carried my party and my baggage across by dint of any idea 
gathered from Sir Howard Douglas, or Robinson Crusoe. But 
■ we were all faint, and languid from want of food, and besides 
there were no materials. Higher up the river there were bushes, 
and river plants, but nothing like timber, and the cord with 
which my baggage was tied to the pack-saddles amounted alto- 
gether to a very small quantity — not nearly enough to haul any 
sort of craft across the stream. 

And now it was, if I remember rightly, that Dthemetri sub- 
mitted to me a plan for putting to death the Nazarene, whose 
misguidance had been the cause of our difficulties. There was 
something fascinating in this suggestion, for the slaying of th© 



108 



EOTHEN. 



[chap XIII. 



guide was of course easy enough, and would look like an act of 
what politicians call " vigor." If it were only to tecome known 
to my friends in England that I had calmly killed a fellow-crea- 
ture for taking me out of my way, I might remain perfectly quiet 
and tranquil for all the rest of my days, quite free from the dan- 
ger of being considered slow*" I might ever after live on 
upon my reputation like single-speech Hamilton " in the last 

century, or single sin " in this, without being obliged to 

take the trouble of doing any more harm in the world. This 
was a great temptation to an indolent person, but the motive 
was not strengthened by any sincere feeling of anger with the 
Nazarene : whilst the question of his life and death was debated, 
he was riding in front of our party, and there was something in the 
anxious writhing of his supple limbs that seemed to express a 
sense of his false position, and struck me as highly comic ; I 
had no crotchet at that time against the punishment of the 
death, but I was unused to blood, and the proposed victim looked 
so thoroughly capable of enjoying life (if he could only get to 
the other side of the river), that I thought it would be hard for 
him to die, merely in order to give me a character for energy. 
Acting on the result of these considerations, and reserving to 
myself a free and unfettered discretion to have the poor villain 
shot at any future moment, I miagnanimously decided that for the 
present he should live, and not die. 

I bathed in the Dead Sea. The ground covered by the water, 
sloped so gradually, that I was not only forced to sneak in," 
but to walk through the water nearly a quarter of a mile before 
I could get out of my depth. When at last I was able to attempt 
a dive, the salts held in solution made my eyes smart so sharply 
that the pain which I thus suffered acceding to the weakness 
occasioned by want of food, made me giddy and faint for some 
moments, but I soon grew better. I knew beforehand the impos- 
sibility of sinking in this buoyant water, but I was surprised 
to find that ] could not swim at my accustomed pace ; my legs 
and feet were lifted so high and dry out of the lake, that my 
stroke was bafHed, and I found myself kicking against the thin 
air, instead of the dense fluid upon which I was swimming. The 
water is perfectly bright and clear ; its taste detestable. After 



CHAP, xiir.] 



THE DEAD SEA. 



109 



finishing my attempts at swimming and diving, I took some time 
in regaining the shore, and before I began to dress, I found that 
the sun had already evaporated the water which clung to me, 
and that m} skin was thickly encrusted with sulphate of mag- 
nesia. 



A 10 EOTHEN. [chap, xiv 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The Black Tents, 

My steps were reluctantly turned towards the north. I had 
ridden some way and still it seemed that all life was fenced, and 
barred out from the desolate ground over which I was jour- 
neying. On the west there flowed the impassable Jordan ; 
on the east stood an endless range of barren mountains, and on 
the south lay that desert sea that knew not the plashing of an 
oar ; greatly therefore was I surprised, when suddenly there 
broke upon my ear, the long, ludicrous, persevering bray of a 
living donkey. I was riding at this time some few hundred 
yards a-head of all my party, except the Nazarene (who by a 
wise instinct kept closer to me than to Dthemetri), and I instantly 
went forward in the direction of the sound, for I fancied that 
where there were donkeys, there too most surely would be men. 
The ground on all sides of me seemed thoroughly void and life- 
less, but at last I got down into a hollow, and presently a sudden 
turn brought me within thirty yards of an Arab encampment. 
The low black tents which I had so long lusted to see were right 
before me, and they were all teeming with live Arabs — men, 
women, and children. 

I wished to have let my party behind know where I was, but 
I recollected that they \vould be able to trace me by the prints 
of my horse's hoofs in the sand, and ha\ing to do with Asiatics, 
I felt the danger of the slightest movement which might be 
looked upon as a sign of irresolution. Therefore, without look- 
ing behind me — -without looking to the right or to the left, I rode 
straight up towards the foremost tent. Before this was strewn a 
semicircular fence of dead boughs, through which there was an 
opening opposite to the front of the tent. As I advanced, some 
twenty or thirty of the most uncouth looking fellows imaginable 



CHAP. XIV.] 



THE BLACK TENTS. 



Ill 



came forward to meet me. In their appearance they showed 
nothing of the Bedouin blood ; they were of many colors, from 
dingy brown to jet black, and some of these last had much of 
the negro look about them. They were tall, powerful fellows, 
but awfully ugly. They v/ore nothing but the Arab shirts, 
confined at the waist by leathern belts. 

I advanced to the gap left in the fence, and at once alighted 
from my horse. The chief greeted me after his fashion by al- 
ternately touching first my hand and then his own forehead, as 
if he were conveying the virtue of the touch like a spark of elec- 
tricity. Presently I found myself seated upon a sheep-skin, 
which was spread for me under the sacred shade of Arabian 
canvass. The tent was of a long, narrow, oblong form, and 
contained a quantity of men, women and children, so closely 
huddled together, that there v/as scarcely one of them who was 
not in actual contact with his neighbor. The moment I had 
taken my seat, the chief repeated his salutations in the most en- 
thusiastic manner, and then the people having gathered densely 
about me, got hold of my unresisting hand, and passed it round 
like a claret jug for the benefit of everybody. The women soon 
brought me a wooden bowl full of buttermilk, and welcome in- 
deed came the gift to my hungry and thirsty soul. 

After some tim^ my party, as I had expected, came up, and 
when poor Dthemetri saw me on my sheep-skin, the life and 
soul" of this ragamuffin party, he was so astounded that he even 
failed to check his cry of horror ; he plainly thought that now, 
at last, the Lord had delivered me (interpreter and all) into the 
hands of the lowest Philistines. 

Mysseri carried a tobacco pouch slung at his belt, and as soon 
as its contents were known, the whole population of the tent be- 
gan begging like spaniels for bits of the beloved weed. I con- 
cluded from the abject manner of these people, that they could 
not possibly be thorough-bred Bedouins, and I saw too, that they 
must be in the very last stage of misery, for poor indeed is the 
man in these climes, who cannot command a pipeful of tobacco. 
I began, to think that 1 had fallen amongst the rough savages, 
and it seemed likely enough that they would gain their very first 
knowledge of civilisation by ravishing and studying the con- 



12 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, XIV 



ents of my dearest portmanteaus, but still my impression was 
.hat they would hardly venture upon such an attempt ; I observ- 
ed, indeed, that they did not offer me the bread and salt, which 
i had understood to be the pledges of peace amongst wandering 
tribes, but I fancied that they refrained from this act of hospi- 
tality, not in consequence of any hostile determination, but in 
order that the notion of robbing me might remain for the present 
an ^'open question." I afterwards found that the poor fellows 
had no bread to offer. They were literally " out at grass it is 
true that they had a scanty supply of milk from goats, but they 
were living almost entirely upon certain grass stems, which 
were just in season at that time of the year. These, if not 
highly nourishing, are pleasant enough to the taste, and their 
acid juices came gratefully to thirsty lips. 



CHAP. XV.] PASSAGE OP THE JORDAN. 113 



CHAPTER XV. 

Passage of the Jordan. 

And now Dthemetri began to enter into a negotiation with my 
hosts for a passage over the river. 1 never interfered with my 
worthy Dragoman upon these occasions, because from my entire 
ignorance of the Arabic, I should have been quite unable to 
exercise any real control over his words, and it would have 
been silly to break the stream of his eloquence to no purpose. 
1 have reason to fear, however, that he lied transcendantly, and 
especially in representing me as the bosom friend of Ibrahim 
Pasha. The mention of that name produced immicnse agitation 
and excitement, and the Sheik explained to Dthemetri the 
grounds of the infinite respect which he and his tribe entertained 
for the Pasha. A few weeks before Ibrahim had craftily sent 
a body of troops across the Jordan. The force went warily 
round to the foot of the mountains on the East, so as to cut off 
the retreat of this tribe, and then surrounded them as they lay 
encamped in the vale ; their camels, and, indeed, all their 
possessions worth taking, were carried otf by the soldiery, and 
moreover the then Sheik, together with every tenth man of the 
tribe, was brought out and shot. You would think that this 
conduct on the part of the Pasha might not procure for his 
friend " a very gracious reception am.ongst the people whom 
he had thus despoiled and decimated, but the Asiatic seems to 
be animated with a feeling of profound respect, almost border- 
ing upon affection, for all who have done him any bold and 
violent wrong, and there is always toe, so much of vague and 
undefined epprehension mixed up with his really well-founded 
alarms, th£.t I can see no limit to the yielding and bending of 
bis mind ^^hen it is v/orked upon by the idea of power. 

After some discussion the Arabs agreed, as I thought, to con- 
9 



114 



EOTHEN. 



[CH.4 P. XT 



duct me to a ford, and we moved on towards the river, followed 
by seventeen of the most able-bodied of the tribe, under the 
guidance of several grey-bearded elders, and Sheik Ali Djoub- 
ran at the head of the whole detachment. Upon leaving the 
encampment a sort of ceremony was performed, for the purpose, 
it seemed, of ensuring, if possible, a happy result for the under- 
taking. There was an uplifting of arms, and a repeating of 
words, that sounded like formulse, but there were no prostrations, 
and I did not understand that the ceremony was of a reli- 
gious character. The tented Arabs are looked upon as very 
bad Mahometans. 

We arrived upon the banks of the river — not at a ford, but at 
a deep and rapid part of the stream, and I now understood that 
it was the plan of these men, if they helped me at all, to trans- 
port me across the river by some species of raft. But a reac- 
tion had taken place in the opinions of many, and a violent dis- 
pute arose, upon a motion which seemed to have been made by 
some honorable member, with a view to robbery. The fellows 
all gathered together in a circle, at a little distance from my party, 
and there disputed with great vehemence and fury, for nearly 
two hours. I can't give a correct report of the debate, for it 
was held in a barbarous dialect of the Arabic, unknown to my 
Dragoman. I recollect, I sincerely felt at the time that the 
arguments in favor of robbing me must have been almost un- 
answerable, and I gave great credit to the speakers on my side 
for the ingenuity and sophistry which they must have shown in 
maintaining the fight so well. 

During the discussion, I remained lying in front of my bag- 
gage, which had all been taken from the pack-saddles, and 
placed upon the ground. I was so languid from want of food, 
that I had scarcely animation enough to feel as deeply inter- 
ested as you would suppose, in the result of the discussion. I 
thought, however, that the pleasantest toys to play with, during 
this interval, were my pistols, and now and then, when I list- 
lessly visited my loaded barrels with the swivel ramrods, or 
drew a sweet, musical click from my English firedocks, it 
seemed to me that I exercised a slight and gentle influence on 
the debate. Thanks to Ibrahim Pasha's terrible visitation, the 



CHAP XV.] 



PASSAGE OF THE JORDAN. 



113 



men of the tribe were wholly unarmed, and nay advantage in 
this respect might have counter- balanced, in some measure^ the 
superiority of numbers. • 

Mysseri (not interpreting in Arabic) had no duty to perform, 
and he seemed to be faint and listless as myself. Shereef 
looked perfectly resigned to any fate. But Dthemetri (faithful 
terrier!) was bristling with zeal and watchfulness; he could 
not understand the debate, which indeed was carried on at a 
distance too great to be easily heard, even if the language had 
been familiar ; but he was always on the alert, and now and 
then conferring with men who had straggled out of the assembly ; 
at last he found an opportunity of making a proposal, which at 
once produced immense sensation ; he offered, on my behalf, 
that if the tribe should bear themselves loyally tov/ards me, and 
take my party and my baggage in safety to the other bank of 
the river, I should give them a teskeri," or written certificate 
of their good conduct, which might avail them hereafter in the 
hour of their direst need. This proposal was received, and in- 
stantly accepted by all the men of the tribe there present, with 
the utmost enthusiasm. I was to give the men, too, a bak- 
sheish," that is, a present of money, which is usually made 
upon the conclusion of any sort of treaty ; but, although the 
people of the tribe were so miserably poor, they seemed to look 
upon the pecuniary part of the arrangement as a matter quite 
trivial in comparison with the teskeri.'' Indeed, the sum which 
Dthemetri promised them was extremely small, and not the 
slightest attempt was made to extort any further reward. 

The Council now broke up, and most of the men rushed madly 
towards me, and overwhelmed me with vehement gratulations ; 
they caressed my boots with much affection, and my hands were 
severely kissed. 

The Arabs now went to work in right earnest to effect the 
passage of the river. They had brought with them a great 
nu:nber of the skins which they use for carrying water in the 
desert ; these they filled with air, and fastened several of them 
to small boughs which they cut from the banks of the river. In 
this way they constructed a raft not more than about four feet 
square, but rendered buoyant by the inflated skins which sup- 



116 



EOTHEN. 



[dllAP. XV 



ported it. On this a portion of my baggage was placed, and waa 
lirmiy tied to it by the cords used on my pack-saddles. The 
lirde raft, with its weighty cargo, was then gently lifted into the 
water, and I had the satisfaction to see that it floated well. 

Twelve of the Arabs now stripped, and tied inflated skins to 
their loins ; six of the men went down into the river, got in 
front of the little raft, and pulled it off a few feet from the bank. 
The other six then dashed into the stream with loud shouts, 
and swam along after the raft, pushing it from behind. Off 
went the craft in capital style at first, for the stream was easy 
on the eastern side, but I saw that the tug v/as to come, for the 
main torrent swept round in a bend near the western banks of 
the river. 

The old men, with their long grey grisly beards, stood shout- 
ing and cheering, praying and commanding. At length the 
raft entered upon the diflicult part of its course ; the whirling 
stream seized and twisted it about, and then bore it rapidly 
downwards ; the swimmers flagged, and seemed to be beat 
in the struggle. Bat now the old men on the bank, with their 
rigid arms uplifted straight, sent forth a cry and a shout that 
tore the wide air into tatters, and then to make their urging yet 
more strong, they shrieked out the dreadful syllables, 'brahim 
Pasha !" The swimmers, one moment before so blown, and so 
weary, found lungs to answer the cry, and shouting back the 
name of their great destroyer, they dashed on through the tor- 
rent and bore the raft in safety to the western bank. 

Afterwards the swimmers returned with the raft, and attached 
to it the rest of my baggage. I took my seat upon the top of the 
cargo, and the raft thus laden, passed the river in the same way 
and with the same struggle as before. The skins, however, not 
being perfectly air-tight, had lost a great part of their buoyancy, 
so that I, as well as the luggage that passed on this last voy- 
age, got v/et in the waters of Jordan. The raft could not be 
trusted for another trip, and the rest of my party passed the river 
in a different, and (for them) much safer way. Inflated skins 
were fastened to their loins, and thus supported, they were tug- 
ged across by Arabs swimming on either side of them. The 
horses and mules were thrown into the water, and forced to 
swim over ; t.ie poor beasts had a hard struggle for their lives 



CHAP XV.] 



PASSAGE OF THE JORDi.N. 



117 



in that swift stream, and I thought that one of the horses would 
have been drowned, for he was too w^eak to gain a footing on 
the western bank, and the stream bore him down. At last, 
hovv^ever, he swam bat^k to the side from which he had come. 
Before dark all had passed the river except this one horse and 
old Shereef. He, poor fellow, was shivering on the eastern 
bank, for his dread of the passage was so great that he delayed 
it as long as he could, and at last it becam.e so dark that he was 
obliged to wait till the morning. 

I lay that night on the banks of the river, and at a little dis- 
tance from me the Arabs made a fire, round which they sat in a 
circle. They were made most savagely happy by the tobacco 
with which I supplied them, and they had determined to m.ake 
the whole night one smoking festival. The poor fellows had only 
one broken bowl, without any tube at all, but this morsel of a 
pipe they passed round from one to the other, allowing to each 
a fixed number of whifis. In that way they passed the wliole 
night. 

The next morning old Shereef was brought across. It was a 
strange sight to see this solemn old Mussulman with his shaven 
head, and his sacred beard, sprawling and puffing upon the sur- 
face of the v/ater. When at last he reached the bank, the peo- 
ple told him that by his baptism in Jordan he had surely become 
a mere Christian. Poor Shereef! — the holy man! — the descen- 
dant of the Prophet ! — he was sadly hurt by the taunt, and the 
more so as he seemed to feel there was some foundation for it, 
and that he really may have absorbed some Christian errors. 

When all was ready for departure, I v/rote the Teskeri " 
in French, and delivered it to Sheik Ali Djoubran, together with 
the promised baksheish ; " he was exceedingly grateful, and I 
parted upon very good terms from this ragged tribe. 

In two or three hours I gained Rihah, a village which is said 
to occupy the site of ancient Jericho. There was one building 
there which I observed v/ith some emotion, for although it may 
not have been actually standing in the days of Jericho, it con- 
tained at this day a most interesting collection of— modern 
loaves. 

Some hours after sun-set I reached the Convent of Santa 
Saba J and there remained for the night. 



118 



EOTHE^ 



[chap XVI. 



CHAPTER XVL 
Terra Santa. 

The enthusiasm that had glowed, or seemed to glow, within me 
for one blessed moment when I knelt by the shrine of the 
Blessed Virgin at Nazareth, was not rekindled at Jerusalem. 
In the stead of the solemn gloom, and the deep stillness that of 
right belonged to the Holy City, there was the hum and the 
bustle of active life. It was the " height of the season." The 
Easter ceremonies drew near ; the Pilgrims were flocking in 
from all quarters, and although their objects were partly at 
least of a religious character, yet their " arrivals " brought as 
much stir and liveliness to the city, as if they had come up to 
marry their daughters. 

The votaries who every year crowd to the Holy Sepulchre 
are chiefly of the Greek and Armenian Churches. They are 
not drawn into Palestine by a mere longing to stand upon the 
ground trodden by our Saviour, but rather they perform the 
pilgrimage as a plain duty, which is strongly inculcated by their 
religion. A very great proportion of those who belong to the 
Greek Church, contrive at some time or other in the course of 
their lives, to achieve the enterprise. Many, in their infancy 
and childhood, are brought to the holy sites by their parents, 
but those who have not had this advantage will often make it 
the main object 'of their lives to save money enough for this 
holy undertaking. 

The pilgrims begin to arrive in Palestine some weeks before 
the Easter festival of the Greek Church ; they come from 
Egypt — from all parts of Syria— from Armenia and Asia 
Minor — from Stamboul, from Roumelia, from the provinces of 
the Danube, and. fr-^m all the Russias. Most of these people 
bring with them some articles of merchandize, but I myself be- 



CHAP. 



TERRA SANTA. 



119 



lieve (notwithstanding the common taunt against pilgrims), that 
they do this rather as a mode of paying the expenses of their 
journey, than from a spirit of mercenary speculation ; they 
generally travel in families, for the women are of course more 
ardent than their husbands in undertaking these pious enter- 
prises^ and they take care to bring with them all their children, 
however young, for the efficacy of the rites does not depend 
upon the age of the votary, so that people w^hose careful mothers 
have obtained for them the benefit of the pilgrimage in early 
life, are saved from the expense and trouble of undertaking the 
journey at a later age. The superior veneration so often excited 
by objects that are distant and unknown, shows not perhaps the 
wrongheadedness of a man, but rather the transcendant powder 
of his Imagination ; however this may be, and whether it is by 
mere obstinacy that they poke their way through intervening 
distance, or whether they come by the winged strength of 
Fancy, quite certainly the Pilgrims w^ho flock to Palestine from 
the most remote homes are the people most eager in the enter- 
prise, and in number, too, they bear a very high proportion to 
the whole mass. 

The great bulk of the Pilgrims make their w^ay by sea to the 
port of Jaffa. A number of families wiW charter a vessel 
amongst them, all bringing their own provisions, which are of 
the simplest and cheapest kind. On board every vessel thus 
freighted, there is, I believe, a priest who helps the people in 
their religious exercises, and tries (and fails) to maintain some- 
thing like order and harmony. The vessels employed in this 
service are usually Greek brigs or brigantines, and schooners, 
and the number of passengers stowed in them is almost always 
horribly excessive. The voyages are sadly protracted, not 
only by the land-seeking, storm-fiymg habits of the Greek sea- 
men, but also by their endless schemes and speculations, which 
are for ever tempting them to touch at the nearest port. The 
voyage, too, must be made in v/inter, in order that Jerusalem 
may be reached some weeks before the Greek Easter, and thus 
by the time they attain to the holy shrines, the Pilgrims have 
really and truly undergone a very respectable quantity of suf- 
fering. I once saw one of these pious cargoes put ashore on 



120 



EOTHEN. 



[CHAl'. XVI- 



the coast of Cyprus, where tlie}^ bad touched for the purpose of 
visiting (not Paphos, but) some Christian sanctuary. I never 
sav/ (no, never even in the most horridly stuffy ball room) 
such a discomfortable collection of human beings. Long hud- 
died together in a pitching and rolling prison — fed on beans^ — 
exposed to some real danger, and no terrors without end, hoy 
aad been tumbled about for many wintry weeks in the chop;^ing 
§eas of the Mediterranean ; as soon as they landed, they stood 
ipon the beach and chaunted a hymn of thanks ; the chaunt 
vas morne and doleful, but really the poor people were looking so 
TTiiserable that one could not fairly expect from them any lively 
^'^utpouring of gratitude. 

When the Pilgrims have landed at Jaffa they hire camels, 
horses, mules or donkeys, and make their wa}^ as well as they 
can to the Holy City. The space fronting the Church of the 
Holy Sepulchre soon becomes a kind of Bazaar, or rather, per- 
haps, reminds you of an English Fair. On this spot the Pil- 
grims display their merchandize, and there too the trading resi- 
dents of the place ofier their goods for sale. I have never, I 
think, seen elsewhere in Asia, so much commercial animation 
as upon this square of ground by the Church door ; the " money 
changers " seemed to be almost as brisk and lively as if they 
had been within the Temple. 

When I entered the Church I found a Babel of worshippers. 
Greek, Roman, and Armenian priests were performing their 
different rites in various nooks and corners, and crowds of dis- 
ciples were rushing about in all directions, — some laughing 
and talking, — ^some begging, but most of them going about in a 
regular and methodical way to kiss the sanctified spots, and 
speak the appointed syllables, and lay down the accustomed 
coin. If this kissing of the shrines had seemed as though it 
were done at the bidding of Enthusiasm, or of any poor senti- 
ment, even feebly approaching to it, the sight would have been 
less odd to English eyes ; but as it was, I stared to see grown 
men thus steadily and carefully embracing the sticks and the 
6tones~not from love or from zeal (else God forbid that I should 
have stare-d), but from a calm sense of duty ; they seemed t(? 



CHAP. XVI. 1 



FERRA SANTA. 



121 



be not " working out," but transacting the great business of 
Salvation. 

Dthemetri, however, who generally came with me when I 
went outj in order to do duty as interpreter, really had in him 
some enthusiasm ; he was a zealous and almost fanatical mem- 
ber of the Greek Church, and had long since performed the 
pilgrimage, so now great indeed was the pride and delight with 
which he guided me from one holy spot to another. Every 
now and then, when he came to an unoccupied shrine, he fell 
down on his knees and performed devotion ; he was almost dis- 
tracted by the temptations that surrounded him ; there were so 
many stones absolutely requiring to be kissed, that he rushed 
about happily puzzled and sweetly teased, like "Jack among 
the maidens." 

A Protestant, familiar with the Holy Scriptures, but ignorant 
of tradition and the geography of Modern Jerusalem, finds 
himself a good deal " mazed" when he first looks for the sacred 
sites. The Holy Sepulchre is not in a field without the walls, 
but in the midst, and in the best part of the town under the roof 
of the great Church which I have been talking about ; it is a 
handsome tomb of oblong form, partly subterranean and partly 
above ground ; and closed in on all sides, except the one by 
which it is entered. You descend into the interior by a few 
steps, and there find an altar vv^ith burning tapers. This is the 
spot which is held in greater sanctity than any other at Jerusa- 
lem. When you have seen enough of it, you feel perhaps 
weary of the busy crowd and inclined for a gallop ; you ask 
your Dragoman whether there will be time before sunset to 
procure horses and take a ride to Mount Calvary. Mount Cal- 
vary, Signer? — eccolo ! — it is wp stairs — on the first jioor. In 
effect you ascend, if I remember rightly, just thirteen steps, 
and then you are shovvu the nov/ golden sockets in which the 
crosses of our Lord and the two thieves were fixed. All this 
is startling, but the truth is, that the city having gathered round 
the Sepulchre, which is the main point of interest, has crept 
northward, and thus in great measure are occasioned the 
many geographical surprises which puzzle the ^ Bible Cbris^ 



122 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVI 



The church of the Holy Sepulchre compi-ises very compendi- 
ously almost all the spots associated with the closing career of 
our Lord. Just there, on your right, he stood and wept ; by the 
pillar on your left he was sbourged ; on the spot just before you 
he was crowned with the crown of thorns ; up there he was cru« 
cified, and down here he was buried. A locality is assigned to every 
the minutest event connected with the recorded history of our Sa- 
viour ; even the spot where the cock crew, when Peter denied 
his Master, is ascertained and surrounded by the walls of an 
Armenian convent. Many Protestants are wont to treat these 
traditions contemptuously, and those who distinguish themselves 
from their brethren by the appellation of Bible Christians," 
are almost fierce in their denunciation of these supposed errors. 

It is admitted, I believe, by everybody, that the formal sanc- 
tification of these spots was the act of the Empress Helena, 
the mother of Constantine, but I think it is fair to suppose that 
she was guided by a careful regard^ to the then prevailing tra- 
ditions. Now the nature of the ground upon which Jerusalem 
stands, is such that the localities belonging to the events there 
enacted might have been more easily and permanently ascer- 
tained by tradition than those of any city that I know of. Jeru- 
salem, v/hether ancient or m.odern, was built upon and surrounded 
by sharp, salient rocks, intersected by deep ravines. Up to the 
time of the siege. Mount Calvary, of course, must have been 
well enough known to the people of Jerusalem ; the destruction 
of the mere buildings could not have obliterated from any man's 
memory the names of those steep rocks and narrow ravines in 
the roidst of which the city had stood. It seems to me, therefore, 
highly probable that in fixing the site of Calvary, the Empress 
was rightly guiled. ' Recollect, too, that the voice of tradition at 
Jerusalem is quite unanimous, and that Romans, Greeks, Arme- 
nians, and Jews, all hating each other sincerely, concur in 
assigning the same localities to the events told in the Gospel. I 
concede, however, that the attempt of the Empress to ascertain 
the sites of the minor events cannot be safely relied upon. With 
respect, for instancCj to the certainty of the spot where the cock 
erew, I am far from being convinced. 

Supposing that the Empress acted arbitrarily in fixing the 



CHAP. XVI.] 



TERRA SANTA 



123 



holy sites, it would seem that she followed the Gospel of St. 
John, and that the geography sanctioned by her can be more 
easily reconciled with that history than with the accounts of the 
other Evangelists. 

The authority exercised by the Mussulman Government iii re- 
lation to the Holy sites, is in one view somewhat humbling to the 
Christians, for it is almost as an arbitrator between the contend- 
ing sects (this always, of course, for the sake of pecuniary 
advantage), that the Mussulman lends his contemptuous aid ; he 
not only grants but enforces toleration. All persons, of what- 
ever religion, are allowed to go as they will into every part of 
the church of the Holy Sepulchre, but in order to prevent inde- 
cent contests, and also from motives arising out of money pay- 
ments, the Turkish Government assigns the peculiar care of 
each sacred spot to one of the ecclesiastic bodies. Since this 
guardianship carries with it the receipt of the coins which the 
pilgrims leave upon the shrines, it is strenuously fought for by 
all the rival Churches, and the artifices of intrigue are busily 
exerted at Stamboul in order to procure the issue or revocation 
of the Firmans, by which the coveted privilege is granted. In 
this strife the Greek Church has of late years signally triumph- 
ed, and the most famous of the shrines are committed to the care 
of their priesthood. They possess the golden socket in which 
stood the cross of our Lord, whilst the Latins are obliged to con- 
tent themselves with the apertures in which were inserted the 
crosses of the two thieves ; they are naturally discontented with 
that poor privilege, and sorrowfully look back to the days of 
their former glory — the days when Napoleon was Emiperor, and 
Sebastiani was minister at the Porte. It seems that the " citi- 
zen'^ Sultan, old Louis Philippe, has done very little indeed for 
Holy Church in Palestine. 

Although the Pilgrims perform their devotions at the several 
shrines v/ith so little apparent enthusiasm, they are driven to 
the verge of madness by the miracle which is displayed to them 
on Easter Saturday. Then it is that the heaven-sent fire issues 
from the Holy Sepulchre. The Pilgrims all assemble in the 
great Church, and already, long before the wonder is v/orked, 
they are wu'ought by anticipation of God's sign, as well as by 



124 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVI. 



their struggles for room and breathing space, to a most frightful 
state of excitement. At length the Chief Priest of the Greeks, 
accompanied (of all people in the world) by the Turkish Gov- 
ernor, enters the tomb. After this there is a long pause, and 
then, suddenly, from out of the small apertures on either side of 
the Sepulchre, there issue long, shining flames. The pilgrims 
now rush forward, madly struggling to light their tapers at the 
holy fire. This is the dangerous moment, and many lives are 
often lost. 

The year before that of my going to Jerusalem, Ibrahim Pa- 
sha, from some whim or motive of policy, chose to witness the 
miracle. The vast Church was of course thronged, as it always 
is on that awful day. It seems that the appearance of the fire 
was delayed for a very long time, and that the growing frenzy 
of the people was heightened by suspense. Many, too, had 
already sunk under the effect of the heat and the stifling atmo- 
sphere, when at last the fire flashed from the Sepulchre. Then 
a terrible struggle ensued — many sunk and were crashed. 
Ibrahim had taken his station in one of the galleries, but now, 
feeling perhaps his brave blood w^armed by the sight and sound 
of such strife, he took upon himself to quiet the people by his 
personal presence, and descended into the body of the Church 
with only a few guards ; he had forced his way into the midst 
of the dense crowd, when unhappily he fainted away ; his guards 
shrieked out, and the event instantly became known. A bod}^ of 
soldiers recklessly forced their way through the crowd, trampling 
over every obstacle that they might save the life of their gene- 
ral. Nearly two hundred people were killed in the struggle. 

The following year, however, the Government took batter 
measures for the prevention of these calamities. I was not pre- 
sent at the ceremony, having gone away from Jerusalem some 
time before, but I afterwards returned into Palestine, and I then 
learned that the day had passed oft^ without any disturbance of 
a fatal kind. It is, however, almost too much to expect that so 
many ministers of peace can assemble without finding some 
occasion for strife, and in that year a tritti of wild Bedouins 
became the subject of discord ; these men, it seems, led an Arab 
life in some of the desert tracts bordering on the ne ighborhood of 



CHAP XVI.] 



TERRA SANTA. 



125 



Jerusalem, hut were not connected with any of the great ruling 
tribes. Some whim or notion of policy had induced them to 
embrace Christianity, but they were grossly ignorant of the 
rudiments of their adopted faith, and having no priest with them 
in their desert, they had as little knowledge of religious cere- 
monies as of Religion itself ; they were not even capable of 
conducting themselves in a place of worship with ordinary 
decorum, but would interrupt the service with scandalous cries 
and warlike shouts. Such is the account the Latins give of 
them, but I have never heard the other side of the question. 
These wild fellov/s, notwithstanding their entire ignorance of all 
religion, are yet claimed by the Greeks, not only as proselytes 
who have embraced Christianity generally, but as converts to 
the particular doctrines and practice of their church. The 
people thus alleged to have concurred in the great schism of the 
Eastern Empire, are never, I believe, within the walls of a 
church, or even of any building at all, except upon this occa- 
sion of Easter, and as they then never fail to find a row of some 
kind going on by the side of the Sepulchre, they fancy, it seems, 
that the ceremonies there enacted are funeral games, of a mar- 
tial character, held in honor of a deceased chieftain, and that a 
Christian festival is a peculiar kind of battle fought between 
walls and without cavalry. It does not appear, however, that 
these men are guilty of any ferocious acts, or that they attempt 
to commit depredations. The charge against them is merely, 
that by their way of applauding the performance — by their hor- 
rible cries and frightful gestures, they destroy the solemnity of 
divine service, and upon this ground the Franciscans obtained a 
firman for the exclusion of such tumultuous worshippers. The 
Greeks, however, did not choose to lose the aid of their wild con- 
verts, merely because they were a little backward in their reli- 
gious education, and they therefore persuaded them to defy the 
firman by entering the city en masse, and overawing their enemies. 
The Franciscans, as well as the Government authorities, were 
obliged to give way, and the Arabs triumphantly marched into 
the church. The festival, however, must have seemed to them 
rather flat for although there may have been some casualties " 



126 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVI. 



in the way of eyes black, and noees bloody, and women 
missing," there was no return of " killed." 

Formerly the Latin Catholics concurred in acknowledging 
(but not I hope in working) the annual miracle of the heavenly 
fire, but they have for many years withdrawn their countenance 
from this exhibition, and they now repudiate it as a trick of the 
Greek church. Thus, of course, the violence of feeling with 
which the rival churches meet at the Holy Sepulchre, on Easter 
Saturday, is greatly increased, and a disturbance of some kind 
is certain. In the year I speak of, though no lives were lost, there 
was, as it seems, a tough struggle in the church. I was amused 
at hearing of a taunt that was thrown that day upon an English 
traveller : he had taken his station in a convenient part of the 
church, and was no doubt displaying that peculiar air of serenity 
and gratification with which an English gentleman usually looks 
on at a row, when one of the Franciscans came by, all reeking 
from the fight, and was so disgusted at the coolness and placid 
contentment of the Englishman (who was a guest at the convent), 
that he forgot his monkish humility as well as the duties of hos- 
pitality, and plainly said, " You sleep under our roof — you eat 
our bread — you drink our wine, and then when Easter Saturday 
com.es you don't fight for us !" 

Yet these rival churches go on quietly enough till their blood 
is up. The terms on which they live remind one of the peculiar 
relation subsisting at Cambridge between ''town and gown." 

These contests and disturbances certainly do not originate 
with the lay pilgrims, the great body of whom are, as I believe^ 
quiet and inofiensive people ; it is true, however, that their pious 
enterprise is believed by them to operate as a counterpoise for a 
multitude of sins, whether past or future, and perhaps they exert 
themselves in after life to restore the balance of good and evil. 
The Turks have a maxim, which, like most cynical apothegms, 
carries with it the buzzing trumpet of falsehood, as well as the 
small, fine ''sting of truth." "If your friend has made the 
pilgrimage once, distrust him — if he has made the pilgrimage 
twice, cut him dead !" The caution is said to be as applicable to 
the visitants of Jerusalem as tc those of Mecca, but I cannot 



CHAP. XVI.] 



TERRA SANTA. 



127 



help believing that the frailties of all the Hadjis,* whether 
Christian or Mahometan, are greatly exaggerated. I certainly- 
regarded the pilgrims to Palestine as a well-disposed, orderly 
body of people, not strongly enthusiastic, but desirous to comply 
with the ordinances of their religion, and to attain the great end 
of salvation as quietly and economically as possible. 

When the solemnities of Easter are concluded, the pilgrims 
move oiF in a body to complete their good work, by visiting the 
sacred scenes in the neighborhood of Jerusalem, including the 
Wilderness of John the Baptist, Bethlehem, and above all the 
Jordan, for to bathe in those sacred waters is one of the chief 
objects of the expedition. All the pilgrims — men, women, and 
children, are submerged, en chemise^ and the saturated linen is 
carefully wrapped up, and preserved as a burial dress that shall 
inure for salvation in the realms of death. 

I saw the burial of a pilgrim ; he was a Greek — miserably 
poor and very old — he had just crawled into the Holy City, and 
had reached at once the goal of his pious journey and the end of 
his sufferings upon earth ; there was no coffin nor wrapper, and 
as 1 looked full upon the face of the dead, I saw how deeply it 
was rutted with the ruts of age and misery. The priest, strong 
and portly, fresh, fat, and alive with the life of the animal king- 
dom—unpaid, or ill paid for his work, would scarcely deign to 
mutter out his forms, but hurried over the words with shocking 
haste ; presently he called out impatiently — Yalla ! Goor 
(Come ! look sharp !) and then the dead Greek was seized ; his 
limbs yielded inertly to the rude men that handled them, and 
down he went into his grave, so roughly bundled in that his neck 
was twisted by the fall, — so twisted, that if the sharp malady of 
life were still upon him the old man would have shrieked and 
groaned, and the lines of his face would have quivered with 
pain ; the lines of his face were not moved, and the old man lay 
still and heedless — so well cured of that tedious life-ache, that 
nothing could hurt him now. His clay was itself again — cool, 
firm, and tough. The pilgrim had found great rest ; I threw 
the accustomed handful of the holy soil upon his patient face, 



* Hadji-— a pilgrim. 



128 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVI 



and then, and in less than a minute, the earth closed coldly 
round him. 

I did not say "Alas!" — (nobody ever does that T know of, 
though the word is so frequently written). I thought the old 
man had got rather well out of the scrape of being alive and poor. 

The destruction of the mere buildings in such a place as Jeru- 
salem would not involve the permanent dispersion of the inhabit- 
ants, for the rocky neighborhood in which the town is situate 
abounds in caves, which would give an easy refuge to the peo- 
ple until they gained an opportunity of rebuilding their dwell- 
ings. Therefore I could not help looking upon the Jews of 
Jerusalem, as being in some sort the representatives, if not the 
actual descendants of the rascals that crucified our Saviour. 
Supposing this to be the case, I felt that there would be some 
interest in knowing how the events of the Gospel History were 
regarded by the Israelites of modern Jerusalem. The result of 
my inquiry upon this subject, was, so far as it went, entirely 
favorable to the truth of Christianity. I understood that 
the 'performance of the miracles was not doubted hy any of the 
Jews in the place ; all of them concurred in attributing the 
works of our Lord to the influence of magic, but they were 
divided as to the species of enchantment from which the power 
proceeded ; the great mass of the Jewish people believed, I 
fancy, that the miracles had been wrought by aid of the powers 
of darkness, but many, and those the more enlightened, would 
call Jesus "the good Magician." To Europeans repudiating 
the notion of all magic, good or bad, the opinion of the Jews as 
to the agency by which the miracles were worked, is a matter of 
no importance, but the circumstance of their admitting that those 
miracles were in fact performed ^ is certainly curious, and perhaps 
not quite immaterial. 

If you stay in the Holy City long enough to fall into anything 
like regular habits of amusement and occupation, and to become 
in short for the time a " man about town " at Jerusalem, you 
will necessarily lose the enthusiasm which you may have felt 
when you trod the sacred soil for the first time, and it will then 
seem almost strange to you to find yourself so thoroughly sur- 
rounded in all your daily pursuif.s by the signs and sounds of re- 



TKAP. xri.] 



TERRA SANTA. 



129 



ligion. Your Hotel is a monastery — your rooms are cells — the 
landlord is a stately abbot and the waiters are hooded monks. — 
If you walk out of the town you find yourself on the Mount of 
Olives, or in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, or on the Hill of Evil 
Counsel. If you mount your horse and extend your rambles, 
you will be guided to the wilderness of St. John, or the birth« 
place of our Saviour. Your club is the great Church of the 
Holy Sepulchre, where everybody meets everybody every day. 
If you lounge through the town, your Bond Street is the Via 
Dolorosa, and the object of your hopeless affections is some 
maid or matron all forlorn, and sadly shrouded in her pilgrim/s 
robe. If you would hear music, it must be the chaunting of 
friars — if you look at pictures, you see Virgins with mis- fore- 
shortened arms, or devils out of drawing, or angels tumbling up the 
skies in impious perspective. If you would make any purchases 
you must go again to the church doors, and when you inquire for 
the manufactures of the place, you find that they consist of 
double-blessed beads and sanctified shells. These last are the 
favorite tokens w^hich the pilgrims carry off with them ; the 
shell is graven or rather scratched on the white side with a rude 
drawing of the Blessed Virgin, or of the Crucifixion, or some 
other scriptural subject ; and having passed this stage, it goes 
into the hands of a priest ; by him it is subjected to some pro- 
cess for rendering it efficacious against the schemes of our ghostly 
enemy ; the manufacture is then complete, and is deemed to be fit 
for use. 

The village of Bethlehem lies prettily couched on the slope oi 
a hill. The sanctuary is a subterranean grotto, and is committed 
to the joint-guardianship of the Romans, Greeks, and Arme- 
nians, who vie with each other in adorning it. Beneath an altar 
gorgeously decorated, and lit with everlasting fires, there stands 
the low slab of stone which marks the holy site of the Nativity ; 
and near to this is a hollow scooped out of the living rock. Here 
the infant Jesus was laid. Near the spot of the Nativity is the 
rock against which the Blessed Virgin was leaning when she 
presented her babe to the adoring shepherds. 

Many of those Protestants who are accustomed to despise tra- 
dition, consider that this sanctuary is altogether unscriptural — 
10 



130 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVI 



that a grotto is not a stable, and that mangers are made of wood. 
It is perfectly true, however, that the many grottoes and caves 
which are found among the rocks of Judea were formerly used 
for the reception of cattle ; they are so used at this day ; I have 
myself seen grottos appropriated to this purpose. 

You know what a sad and sombre decorum it is that outward- 
ly reigns through the lands oppressed by Moslem sway. The 
Mahometans make beauty their prisoner, and enforce such a 
stern and gloomy morality, or at all events such a frightfully 
close semblance of it, that far and long the wearied traveller 
may go without catching one glimpse of outward happiness. By 
a strange chance in these latter days, it happened, that alone of 
all the places in the land, this Bethlehem, the native village of 
our Lord, escaped the moral yoke of the Mussulmans, and heard 
again, after ages of dull oppression, the cheering clatter of social 
freedom and the voices of laughing girls. It was after an insur- 
rection which had been raised against the authority of Mehemet 
Ali, that Bethlehem v/as freed from the hateful laws of Asiatic 
decorum. The Mussulmans of the village had taken an active 
part in the movement, and when Ibrahim had quelled it, his 
wravh was still so hot that he put to death every one of the few 
Mahometans of Bethlehem who had not already fled. The effect 
produced upon the Christian inhabitants by the sudden removal 
of this restraint was immense. The village smiled once more. 
It is true that such sweet freedom could not long endure. Even 
if the population of the place should continue to be entirely 
Christian, the sad decorum of the Mussulmans, or rather of the 
Asiatics, would sooner or later be restored by the force of 
opinion and custom. But for a while the sunshine would last, 
and when I was at Bethlehem, though long after the flight of ihe 
Mussulmans, the cloud of Moslem propriety had not yet come 
back to cast its cold shadow upon life. When you reach that 
gladsome village, pray Heaven there still may be heard there 
the voice of free, innocent girls. It will sound so dearly wel- 
come ! 

To a Christian, and thorough-bred Englishman, not even the 
licentiousness which generally accompanies it, can compensate 
for the oppressiveness of that horrible outward decorum, which 



CHAP. XVI.] 



TERRA SANTA. 



131 



turns the cities and the palaces of Asia into deserts and gaols. 
So, I say, ^^hen you see and hear them, those romping girls of 
Bethlehem will gladden your very soul. Distant at first, and 
then nearer and nearer, the timid flock will gather around you 
with their large, burning eyes gravely fixed against yours, so 
that they see into your brain, and if you imagine evil against 
them^ they will know of your ill thought before it is yet well 
born, and will fly, and be gone in the moment. But presently 
if you will only look virtuous enough to prevent alarm, and 
vicious enough to avoid looking silly, the blithe maidens will 
draw nearer and nearer to you, and soon there will be one, the 
bravest of the sisters, who will venture right up to your side, 
and touch the hem of your coat, in playful defiance of the 
danger, and then the rest will follow the daring of their youth- 
ful leader, and gather close round you, and hold a shrill con- 
troversy on the wondrous form.ation that you call a hat, and the 
cunning of the hands that clothed you with cloth so fine ; and 
then growing more profound in their researches, they will pass 
from the study of your mere dress, to a serious contemplation 
of your stately height, and your nut-brown hair, and the ruddy 
glow of your English cheeks. And if they catch a glimpse of 
your ungloved fingers, then again will they make the air ring 
with their sweet screams of wonder and amazement, as they 
compare the fairness of your hand with their warmer tints, and 
even with the hues of your own sunburnt face ; instantly the 
ringleader of the gentle rioters imagines a new sin : with tremu- 
lous boldness she touches — then grasps your hand, and smoothes 
it gently betwixt her own, and pries curiously into its make and 
color, as though it were silk of Damascus, or shawl of Cash- 
mere. And when they see you even then, still sage and gentle^^ 
the joyous girls will suddenly, and screamingly, and all at onc^,. 
explain to each other that you are surely quite harmless, aad 
innocent — a lion that makes no spring — a bear that never hugs, 
and upon this faith, one after the other, they will take your 
passive hand, and strive to explain it, and make it a theme and 
a controversy. But the one— the fairest, and the sweetest of 
all, is yet the most timid ; she shrinks from the daring deeds of 
her playmates, and seeks shelter bi^hind their sleeves^ and strive^ 



132 



EOTHEN. 



[chap XVI. 



to screen her glowing consciousness from the eyes that look upon 
her; but her laughing sisters will have none of this cowardice 
— they vow that the fair one sliall 3e their complice — shall share 
their dangers — shall touch the hand of ;lie stranger ; they 
seize her small wrist, and drag her forwctrd by force, and at 
last, whilst yet she strives to turn away, and to cover up her 
whole soul under the folds of downcast eyelids, they vanquish 
her utmost strength — they vanquish your utmost modesty, and 
marry her hand to yours. The quick pulse springs from her 
fingers, and throbs like a whisper upon your listening palm. 
For an instant her large, timid eyes are upon you— in an instant 
they are shrouded again, and there comes a blush so burning, 
that the frightened girls stay their shrill laughter, as though 
they had played too perilously and harmed their gentle sister. 
A moment, and all, with a sudden intelligence, turn away, and 
fly like deer, yet soon again, like deer they wheel round, and 
return, and stand and gaze upon the danger, until they grow 
brave once more. 

I regret to observe that the removal of the moral restraint 
imposed by the presence of the Mahometan inhabitants, has led 
to a certain degree of boisterous, though innocent levity, in the 
bearing of the Christians, and more especially in the demeanor 
of those who b^^long to the younger portion of the female popu- 
lation, but I feel a.S;Sured that a more thorough knowledge of the 
principles of their owp. pure religion, will speedily restore these 
young people to habits of propriety, even more strict than those 
which wer.e imposed upon them by the authority of their Ma- 
hometan brethren.'^ Bah ! thus you might chaunt, if you 
chose ; but loving tfee truth you will not so disown sweet 
Bethlehem — you will- not disown, nor dissemble the right good 
hearty delight, with which, in the midst of the arid waste, jou 
found this gushing spring of fresh iind Joyous girlhood. 



CHAP XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



133 



CHAPTER XVIL 

The Desert. 

Oaza is upon the edge of the Desert, to which it stands in the 
same relation as a sea-port to the sea. It is there that you char- 
ter your camels ("the ships of the Desert*"), and lay in your 
stores for the voyage. 

These preparations kept me in the town for some days ; dis- 
liking restraint, I declined making myself the guest of the Gov- 
ernor (as it is usual and proper to do), but took up my quarters 
at the Caravanserai, or " Khan," as they call it in that part of 
Asia. 

Dthemetri had to make the arrangements for my journey, and 
in order to arm himself with sufficient authority for doing all 
that was required, he found it necessary to put himself in com- 
munication with the Governor. The result of this diplomatic 
intercourse was, that the Governor, with his train of attend- 
ants, came to me one day at my Caravanserai, and formally 
complained that Dthemetri had grossly insulted him. I w^as 
shocked at this, for the man was always attentive and civil to 
me, and I was disgusted at the idea of his having been reward- 
ed with insult. Dthemetri was present when the complaint v/as 
made, and I angri/y asked him v»'hether it was true that he had 
really insulted the Governor, and what the deuce he meant by 
it. This I asked, with the full certainty that Dthemetri, as a 
matter of course, vv^ould deny the charge — would swear that a 
" wrong construction had been put upon his v/ords, and that noth- 
ing was further from his thoughts,'^ &c., &c., after the manner of 
the parliamentary people, but to my surprise he very plainly 
answered that he certainly liad insulted the Governor, and that 
rather grossly, but, he said, it was quite necessary to do this, in 
order to " strike terror, and inspire respect." " Terror and 



134 



EOTHEN. 



[chap xvir 



and respect! What on earth do you mean by that nopsense 

Yes, but without striking terror, and inspiring respect, he 
(Dthemetri) would never be able to force on the arrangements 
for my journey, and Vossignoria would be kept at Gaza for a 
month !" This would have been awkward, and certainly I 
could not deny that poor Dthemetri had succeeded in his odd 
plan of inspiring respect, for at the very time that this explana- 
tion was going on in Italian, the Governor seemed more than 
ever, and more anxiously disposed to overwhelm me with assur- 
ances of good will, and proffers of his best services. All this 
kindness, or promise of kindness, I naturally received with 
courtesy — a courtesy that greatly perturbed Dthemetri, for he 
evidently feared that my civility would undo all the good that 
his insults had achieved. 

You will find, I think, that one of the greatest drawbacks to 
the pleasures of travelling in Asia, is the being obliged more or 
less to make your way by bullying. It is true that your own 
lips are not soiled by the utterance of all the mean words that 
are spoken for you, and that you don't even know of the sham 
threats, and the false promises, and the vain-glorious beasts put 
forth by your dragoman ; but now and then there happens some 
incident of the sort which I have just been mentioning, which 
forces you to believe, or suspect, that your dragoman is habitu- 
ally fighting your battles for you in a way that you can hardly 
bear to think of. 

A Caravanserai is not ill adapted to the purposes for which it 
is meant ; it forms the four sides of a large quadrangular court. 
The ground floor is used for warehouses, the first floor for guests, 
and the open court for the temporary reception of the camels, 
as well as for the loading and unloading of their burthens, and 
the transaction of mercantile business generally. Tho apart- 
ments used for the guests are small cells opening into a corri- 
dor, which runs round the four sides of the court. 

Whilst I lay near the opening of my cell, looking down into 
the court below, there arrived from the Desert a cara^'an, that 
is, a large assemblage of travellers ; it consisted chieflj" of Mol- 
davian pilgrims, who, to make their good work even more than 
complete, had begun by visiting the shrine of the "Virgin in 



CHAP XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



135 



Egypt, and were now goii g on to Jerusalem. They had been 
overtaken in the Desert by a gale of wmd, which so drove the 
sand, and raised up such mountains before them, that their jour- 
ney had been terribly perplexed and obstructed, and their pro- 
visions (including water, the most precious of all) had been ex 
hausted long before they reached the end of their toilsome march* 
They were sadly way-worn. The arrival of the caravan drew 
many and various groups into the court. There was the Mol- 
davian pilgrim v/ith his sable dress, and cap of fur, and heavy 
masses of bushy hair — the Turk with his various and brilliant 
garments — the Arab superbly stalking under his striped blanket, 
that hung like royalty upon his stately form — the jetty Ethio- 
pian in his slavish frock — the sleek-smooth-faced scribe with his 
comely pelisse, and his silver ink-box stuck in like a dagger at 
his girdle. And mingled with these were the camels — some 
standing — some kneeling and being unladen — some twisting 
round their long necks, and gently stealing the straw from out 
of their ov/n pack-saddles. 

In a couple of days 1 was ready to start. The way of pro- 
viding for the passage of the Desert is this : there is an agent in 
the town who keeps himself in communication witli some of 
the Desert Arabs that are hovering within a day's journey of the 
place ; a party of these, upon being guaranteed against seizure, 
or other ill-treatment at the hands of the Governor, come into 
the town, bringing with them the number of camels which you 
require, and then they stipulate for a certain sum to take you 
to the place of your destination in a given time ; the agreement 
which they thus enter into, includes a safe conduct through their 
country, as well as the hire of the camels. According to the 
contract made with me, I was to reach Cairo within ten days 
fi'om the commencement of the journey. I had four camels> one 
for my baggage, one for each of my servants, and one for my- 
self. Four Arabs, the owners of the camels, came with me on 
foot. My stores were a small soldier's tent, two bags of dried 
bread brought from the convent at Jerusalem, and a couple of 
bottles of wine from the same source — two goat-skins filled with 
water, tea, sugar, a cold tongue, and (of all things in the 
world) a jar of Irish butter, which Mysseri had purchased from 



136 



EOTIIEN. 



fCHAP. XVII. 



some merchant. There was also a small sack of charcoal, for 
the greater part of the desert, through which we were to pass, is 
destitute of fuel. 

The camel kneels to receive her load, and for a while she will 
allow the packing to go on with silent resignation, but when she 
begins to suspect .hat her master is putting more than a just bur- 
then upon her poor hump, she turns round her supple neck and 
looks sadly upon the increasing load, and then gently remon- 
strates against the wrong with the sigh of a patient wife ; if sighs 
will not move you, she can weep ; you soon learn to pity, and 
soon to love her for the sake of her gentle and womanish ways. 

You cannot, of course, put an English or any other riding 
saddle upon the back of the camel, but your quilt, or carpet, or 
whatever you carry for the purpose of lying on at night, is fold- 
ed and fastened on the pack-saddle upon the top of the hump, 
and on this you ride, or rather sit. You sit as a man sits on a 
chair when he sits astride and faces the back of it. I made an 
improvement on this plan ; I had my English stirrups strapped 
on to the cross-bars of the pack-saddle, and thus by gaining rest 
for my dangling legs, and gaining, too, the power of varying my 
position more easily than I could otherwise have done, I added 
very much to my comfort. Don't forget to do as I did. 

The camel, like the elephant, is one of the old-fashioned sort 
of animals that still walk along upon the (now nearly exploded) 
plan of the ancient beasts that lived before the flood ; she moves 
forward both her near legs at the same time, and then awkwardly 
swings round her off-shoulder and haunch, so as to repeat the ma- 
noeuvre on that side ; her pace, therefore, is an odd, disjointed 
and disjointing sort of miovement, that is rather disagreeable at 
first, but you soon grow reconciled to it ; the height to which 
you are raised is of great advantage to you in passing the burn- 
ing sands of the desert, for the air at such a distance from the 
ground is much cooler and more lively than that which circulates 
beneath. 

For several miles beyond Gaza, the land which had been 
plentifully watered by the rains of the last week, w^as covered 
with rich verdure, and thickly jewelled with meadow flowers, so 
fresh and fragrg nt that I began to grow almost uneasy — to fancy 



JHAP XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



137 



that the very desert was receding before me; and that the long-desir- 
ed adventure of passing its burning sands/^ was to end in a mere 
ride across a field. But as I advanced the true character of the 
country began to display itself with sufficient clearness to dispel 
my apprehensions, and before the close of my first day's jour- 
ney I had the gratification of finding that T was surrounded on 
all sides by a tract of real sand, and had nothing at all to com- 
plain of, except that there peeped forth at intervals a few isolated 
blades of grass, and many of those stunted shrubs which are the 
accustomed food of the camel. 

Before sunset I came up with an encampment of Arabs (the 
encampment from which my camels had been brought), and my 
tent was pitched amongst theirs. I was now amongst the true 
Bedouins ; almost every man of this race closely resembles his 
brethren ; almost every man has large and finely formed fea- 
tures, but his face is so thoroughly stripped of flesh, and the 
white folds from his head-gear fall down by his haggard cheeks, 
so much in the burial fashion, that he looks quite sad and 
ghastly : his large dark orbs roll slowly and solemnly over the 
white of his deep-set eyes — his countenance shows painful 
thought and long-sufiering — the suffering of one fallen from a 
high estate. His gait is strangely majestic, and he marches 
along with his simple blanket, as though he were wearing the 
purple. His common talk is a series of piercing screams and 
cries,* more painful to the ear than the most excruciating fine 
music that I ever endured. 

The Bedouin women are not treasured up like the wives and 
daughters of other Orientals, and indeed they seemed almost 
entirely free from the restraints imposed by jealousy ; the feint 
which they m.ade of concealing their faces from me was always 
slight ; they never, I think, wore the yashmack properly fixed ; 
when they first saw me, they used to hold up a part of their 
drapery with one hand across their faces, but they seldom perse^ 
vered very steadily in subjecting me to this privation. Unhappy 
beings ! they were sadly plain. The awful haggardness which 

* Milnes cleverly goes to the French for the exact word which conveys 
the impression prodiic )d by the voice of the Arabs, and calls them " un 
peuple criard" 



138 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, xvu 



gave somelliing of character to the faces of the men, was sheer 
ugliness in the poor women. It is a great shame, hut the truth 
is that except when we refer to the beautiful devotion of the 
mother to her child, all the fine things we say and think about 
woman, apply only to those who a.e tolerably good-looking or 
graceful. These Arab women were so plain and clumsy that 
they seemed to m.e to be fit for nothing but another and a better 
world. They may have been good women enough, eo far as 
relates to the exercise of the minor virtues, but they had so 
grossly neglected the prime duty of looking pretty in ihis tran- 
sitory life, that I could not at all forgive them ; they seemed to 
feel the weight of their guilt and to be truly and humbly peni- 
tent. I had the complete command of their affections, for at any 
moment I could make their young hearts bound, and their old 
hearts jump, by offering a handful of tobacco, and yet, believe 
me, it was not in the first soiree that my store of Latakaea was 
exhausted ! 

The Bedouin women have no religion ; this is partly the cause 
of their clumsiness ; perhaps, if from Christian girls they would 
learn how to pray, their souls might become more gentle, and 
their limbs be clothed with grace. 

You who are going into their country, have a direct personal 
interest in knowing something about " Arab hospitality but 
the deuce of it is, that the poor fellows with whom I have hap- 
pened to pitch my tent were scarcely ever in a condition to exer- 
cise that magnanimous virtue with much eclat ; indeed Mysseri's 
canteen generally enabled me to outdo my hosts in the matter of 
entertainment. They were always courteous, however, and 
w^ere never backward in offering me the ^^youart," or cards and 
whey, v>4iich is the 'principal delicacy to be found amongst the 
wandering tribes. 

Practically, I think, Childe Harold would have found it a 
dreadful bore to make " the desert his dwelling-place,/' for at 
all events if he adopted the life of the Arabs, he v/ould have 
tasted no solitude. The tents are partitioned, not so as to divide 
the Childe and the fair spirit," who is his ^' minister," from 
the rest of the world, but so as to separate the twenty or thirty 
brown men that sil screaming in the one compartment, from the 



CHAP. XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



139 



fifty or sixty brown women and children that sc:'eam and squeak 
in the other. If you adopt the Arab life for the sake of seclu- 
sion, you will be horribly disappointed, for you will find your- 
self in perpetual contact with a mass of hot fellow-creatures. 
It is true that all who are inmates of the same tent are related 
to each other, but I am not quite sure that that circumstance 
adds much to the charm of such a life. At all events before 
you finally determine to become an Arab, try a gentle experi- 
ment ; take one of those small, shabby houses in May P'air, and 
shut yourself up in it with forty or fifty shrill cousins for a 
couple of weeks in July, 

In passing the Desert you will find your Arabs wanting to 
start and to rest at all sorts of odd times ; they like, for in- 
stance, to be off at one in the morning, and to rest during the 
whole of the afternoon ; you must not give way to their wishes 
in this respect ; I tried their plan once, and found it very 
harassing and unwholesome. An ordinary tent can give you 
very little protection against heat, for the fire strikes fiercely 
through single canvas, and you soon find that whilst you lie 
crouching, and striving to hide yourself from the blazing face 
of the sun, his power is harder to bear than it is where you 
boldly defy him from the airy heights of your camel . 

It had been arranged with my Arabs, that they were to bring 
with them all the food which they would want for themselves 
during the passage of the Desert, but as we rested at the end of 
the first day's journey, by the side of an Arab encampment, 
my camel-men found all that they required for that night in the 
tents of their own brethren. On the evening of the second day, 
however, just before we encamped for the night, my four Arabs 
came to Dthemetri, and formally announced that they had not 
brought with them one atom of food, and that they looked 
entirely to my supplies for their daily bread. This was awk- 
ward intelligence ; w^e were now just tw^o days deep in the 
Desert, and I had brought with me no more bread than might 
be reasonably required for myself, and my European atten- 
dants : I believed at the moment (for it seemed likely enough) 
that the m.en had really mistaken the terms of the arrangement, 
and feeling that the bore of being put upon half rations w^ould 



140 EOTHEN -hap. xvi 

be a less evil (and even to myself a less incf ^v^enience) thai^i 
the stcTvation of nay Arabs, I at once told Dthemetri to assure 
them that my bread should be equally shared with all. Dthe- 
metri, however, did not approve of this concession ; he assured 
me quite positively that the Arabs thoroughly understood the 
agreement, and that if they Vi ere now without food, they had 
wilfully brought themselves into this strait, for the wretched 
purpose of bettering their bargain, by the value of a few paras' 
worth of bread. This suggestion made me look at the affair in 
a new light ; I should have been glad enough to put up with 
the slight privation to which my concession would subject me, 
and could have borne to witness the semi-starvation of poor 
Dthemetri with a fine, philosophical calm, but it seemed to me 
that the scheme, if scheme it v/ere, had something of audacity 
in it, and was well enough calculated to try the extent of my 
softness ; I well knew the danger of allowing such a trial to 
result in a conclusion that I was one who might be easily 
managed ; and therefore, after thoroughly satisfying myself 
from Dthemetri's clear and repeated assertions, that the Arabs 
had really understood the arrangement, I determined that they 
should not now violate it by taking advantage of my position in 
the midst of their big desert, so I desired Dthemetri to tell them 
that they should touch no bread of mine. We stopped, and the 
tent was pitched ; the Arabs came to me, and prayed loudly 
for bread ; I refused them. 

" Then we die !" 

" God's will be done." 

I gave the Arabs to understand, that I regretted their perish- 
ing by hunger, but that I should bear this calmly, like any 
other misfortune 'not my own — -that in short I was happily 
resigned to their fate. The men would have talked a great 
deal, but they were under the disadvantage of addressing me 
through a hostile interpreter ; they looked hard upon my face, 
but they found no hope there, so at last they retired, as they 
pretended, to lay them down, and die. 

In about ten minutes from this time, I found that the Arabs 
were busily cooking their bread ! Their pretence of having 
brought no food wag false, and was only invented for the pur- 



CHAP. XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



141 



pose of saving it. They had a good bag of meal which they 
had contrived to stow away under the baggage, upon one of the 
camels, in such a way as to escape notice. In Europe the 
detection of a scheme like this would have occasioned a dis- 
agreeable feeling between the master and the delinquent, but 
you would no more recoil from an Oriental, on account of a 
matter of this sort, than in England you would reject a horse 
that had tried, and failed to throw you. Indeed I felt quite 
good-humoredly towards my Arabs, because they had so wo- 
fully failed in their wretched attempt, and because, as it turned 
out, I had done what was right ; they too, poor fellows, evidently 
began to like me immensely, on account of the hard-heartedness 
which had enabled me to baffle their scheme. 

The Arabs adhere to those ancestral principles of bread- 
baking v/hich have been sanctioned by the experience of ages. 
The very first baker of bread that ever lived, must have done 
his work exactly as the Arab does at this day. He takes some 
meal and holds it out in the hollow of his hands, whilst his 
comrade pours over it a few drops of water ; he then mashes up 
the moistened flour into a paste, which he pulls into small 
pieces, and thrusts into the embers ; his way of baking exactly 
resembles the craft or mystery of roasting chestnuts, as practised 
by children ; there is the same prudence and circumspection in 
choosing a good berth for the morsel — the same enterprise, and 
self-sacrificing valor, in pulling it out with the fingers. 

The manner of my daily march was this. At about an hour 
before dawn, I rose, and made the most of about a pint of water 
which I allowed myself for washing. Then I breakfasted upon 
tea, and bread. As soon as the beasts were loaded, I mounted 
my camel, and pressed forward ; my poor Arabs being on foot 
would sometimes moan with fatigue, and pray for rest, but I was 
anxious to enable them to perform their contract for bringing 
me to Cairo within the stipulated time, and I did not therefore 
allow a halt until the evening came. About mid-day, or soon 
after, Mysseri used to bring up his camel alongside of mine, and 
supply me with a piece of bread softened in water (for it was 
dried hard like board), and also (as long as it lasted) with a 
piece of the tongue ; after this there came into my hand (how 



142 



MTHEN. 



[chap. XVII 



well I remember it !) the little tin cup half filled with wine and 
water. 

As long as you are journeying in the interior of the Desert 
you have no particular point to make for as your resting-place. 
The endless sands yield nothing but small stunted shrubs — even 
these fail after the first two or three days, and from that time 
you pass over broad plains — you pass over newly reared hills — 
you pass through valleys that the storm of the last week has 
dug, and the hills and the valleys are sand, sand, sand, still 
sand, and only sand, and sand, and sand again. The earth is 
so samely, that your eyes turn towards heaven — towards heaven, 
I mean, in the sense of sky. You look to the Sun, for he is your 
task-master, and by him you know the measure of the wwk that 
you have done, and the measure of the work that remains for 
you to do ; He comes when you strike your tent in the early 
morning, and then, for the first hour of the day, as you move 
forward on your camel, he stands at your near side, and makes 
you know that the whole day's toil is before you — then for a 
while and a long while you see him no more, for you are veiled, 
and shrouded, and dare not look upon the greatness of his glory, 
but you know where he strides over head, by the touch of his 
flaming sword. No words are spoken, but your Arabs moan, 
your camels sigh, your skin glows, your shoulders ache, and for 
sights you see the pattern and the web of the silk that veils 
your eyes, and the glare of the outer light. Time labors on — 
your skin glows, and your shoulders ache, your Arabs moan, 
your camels sigh, and you see the same pattern in the silk, 
and the same glare of light beyond, but conquering Time 
marches on, and by and by the descending Sun has compassed 
the Heaven, and, now softly touches your right arm, and throws 
your lank shadow over the sand, right along on the way fjr 
Persia ; then again you look upon his face, for his power is 
all veiled in his beauty, and the redness of flames has become 
the redness of roses — the fair, wavy cloud that fled in the morn , 
ing now comes to his sight once more — comes blushing, yet still 
comes on — comes burning with blushes, yet hastens, and clings 
to his side. 

Then arrives your time for resting. The world about you is 



I 



CHAP. XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



143 



all your own, aid there, where you will, you pitch your solitary 
tent ; there is no living thing to dispute your choice. When 
at last the spot had been fixed upon, and we came to a halt, one 
of the Arabs would touch the chest of my camel, and utter at 
the same tim.e a peculiar gurgling sound ; the beast instantly 
understood, and obeyed the sign, and slowly sunk under me till 
she brought her body to a level with the ground ; then gladly 
enough I alighted ; the rest of the camels were unloaded, and 
turned loose to brow^se upon the shrubs of the Desert, where 
shrubs there were, or where these failed, to wait for the small 
quantity of food which was allowed them out of our stores. 

My servants, helped by the Arabs, busied them.selves in 
piching the tent and kindling the fire. Whilst this w^as doing I 
used to walk away towards the East, confiding in the print of my 
foot as a guide for my return. Apart from the cheering voices 
of my attendants I could better know and feel the loneliness of 
the Desert. The influence of such scenes, however, w-as not of 
a softening kind, but filled me rather with a sort of childish 
exultation in the self-sufficiency which enabled m® to stand thus 
alone in the wideness of Asia — a short-lived pride, for wher- 
ever man wanders, he still remains tethered by the chain that 
links him to his kind ; and so when the night closed round me, 
I began to return— to return as it were to my own gate. 
Reachiiig at last some high ground, I could see, and see with 
delight, the fire of our small encampment, and when, at last. 
I regained the spot, it seemed to me a very home that had sprung 
up for me in the midst of these solitudes. My Arabs were busy 
with their bread, — Mysseri rattling tea-cups, — the little kettle 
with her odd, old-maidish look sat humming away old songs 
about England, and two or three yards from the fire my tent 
stood prim and tight with open portal, and with welcoming look, 
like " the old arm chair ^' of our Lyrist's sweet Lady Anne.^' 

At the beginning of my journey, the night breeze blew coldly ; 
when that happened, the dry sand was heaped up outside round 
the skirts of the tent, and so the Wind that everywhere else 
could sweep as he listed a ong those dreary plains was forced to 
turn aside in his course, and make way, as he ought, for the 
Englishman. Then within my tent, there were heaps of luxu- 



144 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVII. 



ries, — dining-rooms, dressing rooms, — libraries, bed rooms, 
drawing rooms, oratories, all crowded into the space of a hearth 
rug. The first night, I remember, with my books, and maps 
about me, I wanted light, — they brought me a taper, and imme- 
diately from out of the silent Desert there rushed in a flood of life, 
unseen before. Monsters of moths of all shapes and hues, that 
never before perhaps had looked upon the shining of a flame, 
now madly thronged into my tent, and dashed through the fire 
of the candle till they fairly extinguished it with their burning 
limbs. Those who had failed in attaining this martyrdom, sud- 
denly became serious and clung despondingly to the canvas. 

By and by there was brought to me the fragrant tea, and big 
masses of scorched and scorching toast, that minded me of old 
Eton days, and the butter that had come all the way to me in this 
Desert of Asia, from out of that poor, dear, starving Ireland. I 
feasted like a King, — like four Kings, — like a boy in the fourth 
form. 

When the cold, sullen morning dawned, and my people began 
to load the camels, I alv/ays felt loath to give back to the w^aste 
this little spot of ground that had glow^ed for a while with the 
cheerfulness of a human dwelling. One by one the cloaks, the 
saddles, the baggage, the hundred things that strewed the ground, 
and made it look so familiar — all these were taken away, and 
laid upon the camels. A speck in the broad tracts of Asia 
remained still impressed with the mark of patent portmanteaus, 
and the heels of London boots ; the embers of the fire lay black 
and cold upon the sand, and these were the signs we left. 

My tent was spared to the last, but when all else was ready for 
the start, then came its fall ; the pegs were drawn, the canvas 
shivered, and in less than a minute there was nothing that 
remained of my genial home but only a pole and a bundle. 
The encroaching Englishman was off, and instant, upon the fall 
of the canvas, like an owner, who had waited, and watched, the 
Genius of the Desert stalked in. 

To servants, as I suppose to any other Europeans not much 
accustomed to amuse themselves by fancy, or memory, it often 
happens that after a few days' journeying, the loneliness of the 
desert will become frightfully oppressive. Upon my poor fel- 



CHAP XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



145 



lows the access of melancholy came heavy, and all at once, as a 
blow from above ; they bent their necks, and bore it as best they 
could, but their joy was great on the fifth day, when we came to 
an Oasis called Gatieth, for here we found encamped a caravan 
(that is an assemblage of travellers) from Cairo. The Orientals 
living in cities, never pass the Desert, except in this way ; many 
will wait for weeks, and even for n:onths, until a sufficient num- 
ber of persons can be found ready to undertake the journey at 
the same time — until the flock of sheep is big enough to fancy 
itself a match for wolves. They could not, I think, really 
secure themselves against any serious danger by this contri- 
vance, for though they have arms, they are so little accustomed 
to use them, and so utterly unorganized, that they never could 
make good their resistance to robbers of the slightest respecta- 
bility. It is not of the Bedouins that such travellers are afraid, 
for the safe-conduct granted by the Chief of the ruling tribe is 
never, I believe, violated, but it is said that there are deserters 
and scamps of various sorts who hover about the skirts of the 
Desert, particularly on the Cairo side, and are anxious to suc- 
ceed to the property of any poor devils whom they may find 
more weak and defenceless than themselves. 

These people from Cairo professed to be amazed at the ludi- 
crous disproportion between their num.erical forces and mine. 
They could not understand, and they wanted to know by what 
strange privilege it is that an Englishman with a brace of pistols 
and a couple of servants rides safely across the Desert, whilst 
they, the natives of the neighboring cities, are forced to travel in 
troops, or rather in herds. One of them got a few minutes of 
private conversation with Dthemetri, and ventured to ask him 
anxiously, whether the English did not travel under the protec- 
tion of Evil Demons. I had previously known (from !^[ethley 
I think, who travelled in Persia) that this notion, so conducive 
to the safety of our countrymen, is generally prevalent amongst 
Orientals ; it owes its origin partly to the strong wilfulness of 
;he English gentleman (which not being backed by any visible 
authority, either civil or military, seems perfectly superhuman 
to the soft Asiatic), but partly too to the magic of the Banking 
system, by force of wh'.ch the wealthy traveller will make ail 
11 



146 



EOTHEN. 



fCHAP. XVII. 



his journeys, without carrying a handful of coin, and yet when 
he arrives at a city, will rain down showers of gold. The 
theory is that the English traveller has committed some sin 
against God and his conscience, and that for this, the Evil Spirit 
has hold of him and drives him from his home, like a victim 
of the old Grecian Furies, and forces him to travel over coun- 
IriBs far and strange, and most chiefly over Deserts and desolate 
places, and to stand upon the sites of cities that once were, and 
are now no more, and to grope among the tombs of dead men. 
Often enough there is something of truth in this notion ; often 
enough the wandering Englishman is guilty (if guilt it be) of 
some pride, or ambition, big or small, imperial or parochial, 
which being offended has made the lone places more tolerable 
than ball rooms to him, a sinner. 

I can understand the sort of amazement of the Orientals at 
the scantiness of the retinue with which an Englishman passes 
the Desert, for I was somewhat struck myself when I saw one 
of my countrymen making his w^ay across the wilderness in 
this simple style. At first there was a mere moving speck in 
the horizon ; my party, of course, became all alive with excite- 
meet, and there were many surmises ; soon it appeared that 
three laden camels were approaching, and that two of them 
carried riders ; in a little while we saw that one of the riders 
wore the European dress, and at last the travellers were pro- 
nounced to be an English gentleman and his servant ; by their 
side theie were a couple, I think, of Arabs on foot, and this was 
the whole party. 

You, — you love sailing, — in returning from a cruise to the 
English coast, you see often enough a fisherman's humble boat 
far away from all shores, with an ugly black sky above, and 
an angry sea beneath, — you watch the grisly old man at the 
helm, carrying his craft with strange skill through the turmoil 
of waters, and the boy, supple-limbed, yet weather-worn al- 
ready, and with steady eyes that look through the blast, — you 
see him understanding commandments from the jerk of his 
father's white eyebrow,- — now belaying, and now letting go, — 
now scrunching himself down into mere ballast, or baling out 
Death with a pipkin. Stale enough is the sight, and yet when 



CHAP. XVII.] 



THE DESERT. 



147 



I see it I always stare anew, and wi,h a kind of Titanic exulta. 
tion, because that a poor boat with the brain of a man, and the 
hands of a boy on board, can matcli herself so bravely against 
black Heaven and Ocean ; well, so when you have travelled for 
days and days, over an Eastern Desert, without meeting the like- 
ness of a human being, and then at last see an English shooting- 
jacket and his servant come listlessly slouching along from out 
the forward horizon^ you stare at the wide unproportion between 
this slendei company, and the boundless plains of sand through 
which they are keeping their way. 

This Englishman, as I afterwards found, was a military man 
returning to his country from India, and crossing the Desert at this 
part in order to go through Palestine. As for me, I had come pretty 
straight from England, and so here w^e met in the wilderness at 
about half way from our respective starting points. As we ap- 
proached each other it became with me a question whether we 
should speak ; I thought it likely that the stranger would accost 
me, and in the event of his doing so, I was quite ready to be as 
sociable and as chatty as I could be, according to my nature, but 
still I could not think of anything in particular that I had to 
say to him ; of course among civilized people the not having 
anything to say is no excuse at all for not speaking, but I was 
shy and indolent, and I felt no great wish to stop and talk like 
a morning visitor, in the midst of those broad solitudes. The 
traveller, perhaps, felt as I did, for except that we lifted our 
hands to our caps and waved our arms in courtesy, we passed 
each other as if we had passed in Bond Street. Our attendants, 
however, were not to be cheated of the delight that they felt in 
speaking to new listeners, and hearing fresh voices once more. 
The masters, therefore, had no sooner passed each other than 
their respective servants quietly stopped and entered into con^* 
versation. As soon as my camel found that her companions were 
not following her. she caught the social feeling and refused to 
go on. I fell the absurdity of the situation and determined to 
accost the stranger, if only to avoid the awkwardness of re- 
maining stuck fast in the Desert, whilst our servants were amus- 
ing themselves. When with this intent I turned round my 
camel, I found that the gallant officer who had passed me by 



148 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVII 



about thirty or forty yards, was exactly in the same predica- 
ment as myself. I put my now willing camel in motion and 
rode up towards the stranger, who, seeing this, fellow ed my ex- 
ample and came forward to meet me. He was the first to 
speak ; he was much too courteous to address me as if he ad- 
mitted of the possibility of my wishing to accost him from any 
feeling of mere sociability, or civilian-like love of vain talk ; 
on the contrary, he at once attributed my advances to a lauda- 
ble wish of acquiring statistical information, and accordingly, 
when we got within speaking distance, he said, I dare say you 
wish to know how the Plague is going on at Cairo and then 
he went on to say, he regretted that his information did not ena- 
ble him to give me in numbers a perfectly accurate statement 
of the daily deaths : he afterwards talked pleasantly enough 
upon other and less ghastly subjects. I thought him manly and 
intelligent ; a worthy one of the few thousand strong English- 
men to whom the Empire of India is committed. 

The night after the meeting with the people of the caravan, 
Dthemetri, alarmed by their warnings, took upon himself to 
keep watch all night in the tent ; no robbers came except a 
jackal that poked his nose into my tent from some motive of ra- 
tional curiosity ; Dthemetri did not shoot him for fear of wak- 
ing me. These brutes swarm in every part of Syria ; and 
there were many of them even in the midst of the void sands, 
that would seem to give such poor promise of food ; I can hardly 
tell what prey they could be hoping for, unless it were that they 
might find, now and then, the carcase of some camel that had 
died on the journey. They do not marshal themselves into 
great packs like the wild dogs of Eastern cities, but follow their 
rey in families, like the place hunters of Europe ; their voices 
are frightfully like to the shouts and cries of human beings ; if 
you lie awake in your tent at night, you are almost continually 
Bearing some hungry family as it sweeps along in full cry ; you 
near the exulting scream with which the sagacious dam first 
winds the carrion, and the shrill response of the unanimous cubs 
as they snuff the tainted air—" Wha ! wha I wha ! wha ! wha ! 
wha ! — Whose gift is it in, mamma ?" 

Once, during this passage, my Arabs lost their way among the 



CHAP XVII. J 



THE DESERT. 



149 



hills of loose, sand that surrounded us, but after a while we were 
lucky enough to recover our right line of march. The same 
day we fell in with a Sheik, the head of a family, that actually 
dwells at no great distance from this part of the desert during 
aine months of the year. The man carried a match-lock, oi 
which he was very proud ; we stopped and sat down, and rested 
awhile, for the sake of a little talk ; there was much that I 
should have liked to ask this man, but he could not understand 
Dthemetri's language, and the process of getting at his know- 
ledge by double interpretation through my Arabs was unsatis- 
factory. I discovered, however (and my Arabs knew of that 
fact)j that this man and his family lived habitually, for nine 
months of the year, without touching or seeing either bread or 
water. The stunted shrub growing at intervals through the sand 
in this part of the desert, is fed by the dews which fall at night, 
and enables the camel mares to yield a little milk, which fur- 
nishes the sole food and drink of their owner and his people. 
During the other three months (the hottest of the months, I sup- 
pose) even this resource fails, and then the Sheik and his people 
are forced to pass into another district. You would ask me why 
the man should not remain always in that district which supplies 
him with water during three months of the year, but I don't 
know enough of Arab politics to answer the question. The 
Sheik was not a good specimen of the effect produced by the diet 
to which he is subjected ; he was very small, very spare, and 
sadly shrivelled — a poor, over- roasted snipe, a mere cinder of a 
man ; I made him sit down by my side, and gave him a piece 
of bread and a cup of water from out of my goat-skins. This 
was not very tempting drink to look at, for it had become turbid, 
and was deeply reddened by some coloring matter contained in 
the skins, but it kept its sweetness and tasted like a strong de- 
coction of Russia leather. The Sheik sipped this, drop by drop^ 
with ineffable relish, and rolled his eyes solemnly round between 
every draught, as though the drink were the drink of the Prophet, 
and had come from the seventh heaven. 

An inquiry about distances led to the discovery that this Sheik 
had never heard of the division of time into hours ; my Arabs 
themselves, I think, were raliier surprised at this. 



150 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVIl 



About this part of my journey, I saw the likeness of a fresh- 
water lake ; I saw, as it seemed, a broad sheet of calm water 
that stretched far and fair towards the south — stretching deep 
into winding creeks, and hemmed in by jutting promontories, and 
shelving smooth off towards the shallow side ; on its bosom the 
reflected fire of the sun lay playing and seeming to float upon 
waters deep and still. 

Though I knew of the cheat, it was not till the spongy foot of 
my camel had almost trodden in tJie seeming waters, that I could 
undeceive my eyes, for the shore line was quite true and natural. 
I soon saw the cause of the phantasm. A sheet of water 
heavily impregnated with salts, had filled this great hollow ; and 
when dried up by evaporation had left a white saline deposit 
that exactly marked the space which the waters had covered, 
and thus sketched a true shore-line. The minute crystals of 
the salt sparkled in the sun, and so looked like the face of a lake 
that is calm and smooth. 

The pace of the camel is irksome, and makes your shoulders 
and loins ache from the peculiar way in which you are obliged 
to suit yourself to the movements of the beast, but you soon of 
course become inured to this, and after the first two days this 
way of travelling became so familiar to me, that (poor sleeper 
as I am) I now and then slumbered, for some moments together, 
on the back of my camel. On the fifth day of my journey the 
air above lay dead, and all the whole earth that I could reach 
with my utmost sight and keenest listening, was still and lifeless 
as some dispeopled and forgotten world, that rolls round and 
round in the heavens, through wasted floods of light. The sun, 
growing fiercer and fiercer, shone down more mightily now than 
ever on me he shone before, and as I drooped my head under his 
fire, and closed my eyes against the glare that surrounded me, I 
slowly fell asleep, for how many minutes or moments, I cannot 
tell, but after a while I was gently awakened by a peal of church 
bells — my native bells — the innocent bells of Marlen, that never 
before sent forth their music beyond the Blaygon hills ! My 
first idea naturally was, that I still remained fast under the 
power of a dream. I roused myself, and drew aside the silk 
ti^at covered my eyes, and plunged my bare face into the light 



CHAP XVII. 1 



THE DESERT. 



151 



Then at least I was well enough wakened, but &till those old 
Marlen bells rung on, not ringing for joy, but proper. y, prosily, 
steadily, merrily ringing for church." After a while the 
sound died away slowly ; it happened that neither I nc>r any of 
my party had a w^atch by which to measure *Jie exact time of its 
lasting, but it seemed to be that about ten minutes had passed 
before the bells ceased. I attributed, the effect to the great heat 
of the sun, the perfect dryness of the clear air through which I 
moved, and the deep stillness of all around me ; it seemed to me 
that these causes, by occasioning a great tension, and consequent 
susceptibility of the hearing organs, had rendered them liable to 
tingle under the passing touch of some mere memory, that must 
have swept across vorj brain in a moment of sleep. Since my 
return to England, it has been told me that like sounds have been 
heard at sea, and that the sailor becalmed under a vertical sun 
in the midst of the wide ocean, has listened in trembling wonder 
to the chime of his own village bells. 

At this time I kept a poor, shabby pretence of a journal, 
w^hich just enabled me to know the day of the month and the 
week, according to the European calendar, and when in my tent 
at night I got out my pocket-book, I found that the day was Sun- 
day, and roughly allowing for the difference of time in this lon- 
gitude, I concluded that at the moment of my hearing that 
strange peal, the church-going bells of Marlen must have been 
actually calling the prim congregation of the parish to morning 
prayer. The coincidence amused me faintly, but I could not 
pluck up the least hope that the effect which I had experienced 
was anything other than an illusion — an illusion liable to be 
explained (as every illusion is in these days) by some of the 
philosophers who guess at nature's riddles. It would have been 
sweeter to believe that my kneeling mother, by some pious 
enchantment, had asked and found this spell to rouse me from 
my scandalous fbrgetfulness of God's holy day, but my fancy 
was too weak to carry a faith like that. Indeed, the vale 
through which the bells of Marlen send their song is a highly 
respectable vale, and its people (save one, two, or three) are 
wholly unaddicted to the practice of magical arts. 

After the fifth day of my jov rney, I no longer travelled over 



152 



EOTHEN. 



CHAP. XVII. 



shifting hills, but came upon a dead level — a dead level bed oi 
sand, quite hard, and studded with small shining pebbles. 

The heat grew fierce ; there was no valley nor hollow, no 
hill, no mound, no shadow of hill nor of mound by which 1 
could mark the way I was making. Hour by hour I advanced, 
and saw no change — I was still the very centre of a round horizon ; 
hour by hour I advanced, and still there was the same, and the 
same, and the same — the same circle of flaming sky — the sanne 
circle of sand still glaring with light and fire. Over all fne 
heaven above — over all the earth beneath, there was no visible 
power that could balk the fierce will of the sun; "he rejoiced 
as a strong man to run a race ; his going forth was from the 
end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it ; and there 
was nothing hid from the heat thereof." From pole to pole, and 
from the East to the West, he brandished his fiery sceptre as 
though he had usurped all Heaven and Earth. As he bid the 
soft Persian in ancient times, so now, and fiercely, too, he bid 
me bow down and worship him ; so now in his pride he seemed 
to command me and say, " Thou shalt have none other gods 
but me." I was all alone before him. There were these two 
pitted together, and face to face — the mighty sun for one, and for 
the other — this poor, pale, solitary self of mine, that I always 
carry about with me. 

But on the eighth day, and before I had yet turned away from 
Jehovah for the glittering god of the Persians, there appeared a 
dark line upon the edge of the forward horizon, and soon the 
line deepened into a delicate fringe that sparkled here and 
there, as though it were sown with diamonds. There, then, 
before me were the gardens and the minarets of Egypt, and the 
mighty works of the Nile, and I (the eternal Ego that I am !)— 
I had lived to see, and I saw them. 

When evening came I was still within the confines of the 
desert, and my tent was pitched as usual, but one of my Arabs 
Btalked away rapidly towards the West without telling me of 
the errand on which he was bent. After a while he returned ; 
he had toiled on a grateful service ; he had travelled all the 
way on to the border of the living world, and brought me back 
for token, an ear of rice, full, fresh, and green. 



Ci;*AP XVII ] 



THE DESERT. 



151 



The next day I entered upon Egypt, and floated along (for the 
delight was as the delight of bathing) through green, wavy fields 
Df rice, and pastures fresh and plentiful, and dived into thp 
cold verdure of groves and gardens, and quenched my hot eyes 
ir. shace, as though in deep rushing waters. 



154 EOTHEN. [chap, xvm 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Cairo and the Plapup * 

Cairo and Plague ! During the whole time of my stay, the 
Plague was so master of the city, and showed himself so star- 
ingly in every street and every alley that I can't now affect to 
dissociate the two ideas. 

When coming from the desert, I rode through a village which 
lies near to the city on the eastern side, there approached me 
with busy face and earnest gestures, a personage in the Turkish 
dress ; his long flowing beard gave him rather a majestic look, 
but his briskness of manner and his visible anxiety to accost 
me, seemed strange in an Oriental. The man, in fact, was 
French or of French origin, and his object was to warn me ol 
the Plague and prevent me from entering the city. 

Arretez-vous, Monsieur, je vous en prie — arretez-vous ; il ne 
faut pas entrer dans la ville ; la Peste y regno partout. 

* There is some semblance of bravado in my manner of talking about the 
Plague. I have been more careful to describe the terrors of other people 
than my own. The truth is, that during the v^hole period of my stay at 
Cairo, I remained thoroughly impressed with a sense of my danger. I may 
almost say that I lived in perpetual apprehension, for even in sleep, as I 
fancy, there remained with me some faint notion of the peril with which I 
was encompassed. But Fear does not necessarily damp the spirits ; on the 
contrary, it will often operate as an excitement, giving rise to unusual ani- 
mation, and thus it affected me. If I had not been surrounded at this time 
by new^ faces, new scenes, and new sounds, the effect produced upon my 
mind by one unceasing cause of alarm, may have been very different. As 
it was, the eagerness with which I pursued my rambles among the wonders 
of Egypt was sharpened and increased by the sting of the fear of Death, 
Thus my account of the matter plainly conveys an impressicn that I re- 
mained at Cairo without losing my cheerfulness and buoyancy of spirita 
And this is the truth, but it is also true, as I have freely confessed, that my 
sense of danger during the whole period was live]/ and continuous. 



CHAP. XVIII.] 



CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



155 



Oui, je sais,* mais 

Mais, Monsieur, je dis la Peste — la Peste ; c'est de La Peste 
qu'il est question. 

Oui, je sais, inais 

Mais; Moasieur, je dis encore la Peste — la Peste. Je vous 
conjure de ne pas entrer dans la ville — vous seiez dans une 
ville empestee. 

Oui, je sais, mais 

Mais, Monsieur, je dois done vous avertir tout bonnement que 
si vous entrez dans la ville, vous serez — enfiz vous serez CoM- 
PROMIS !f 

Oui, je sais, mais 

The Frenchman was at last convinced that it was vain to 
reason with a mere Englishman who could not understand what 
it was to be " compromised.'^ I thanked him most sincerely for 
his kindly meant warning ; in hot countries it is very unusual 
indeed for a man to go out in the glare of the sun, and give free 
advice to a stranger. 

When I arrived at Cairo I summoned Osman EfFendi, who 
was, as I knew, the owner of several houses, and would be able 
to provide me with apartments ; he had no difficulty in doing 
this, for there was not one European traveller in Cairo besides 
myself. Poor Osman ! he met me with a sorrowful counte- 
nance, for the fear of the Plague sat heavily on his soul ; he 
seemed as if he felt that he was doing wrong in lending me a 
resting-place, and he betrayed such a listlessness about temporal 
matters, as one might look for in a man who believed that his 
days were numbered. He caught me, too, soon after my arri- 
val, coming out from the public baths.ij: and from that time for-^ 

* Anglice for " je le sais." These answers of mine as given above, are 
not meant for specimens of mere French, but of that fine, terse, nervous. 
Continental English, with w^hich I and my compatriots make our way 
through Europe. This language, by the bye, is one possessing great force 
and energy, and is not without its literature — a literature of the very highest 
order. Where will you find more sturdy specimens of dcwnright, honest, 
and noble English, than in the Duke of Wellington's/* Freiich" despatches.^ 

t The import of the word " compromised " when used in reference to 
contagion, is explained in page 2. 

J It is said, that when a V issulman fin^s himsMf attacked by the Plagiiej^ 



156 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVIII 



ward he was sadly afraid of me, for he shared the opinions of 
Europeans with respect to the eifect of contagion. 

Osman's history is a curious one. He was a Scotchman 
lx)rn5 and when very young, being then a drummer-boy, he 
landed in Egypt with Mackensie Fraser's force. He was 
taken prisoner, and according to Mahometan custom, the alter- 
native of Death or the Koran was offered to him ; he did not 
choose Death, and therefore went through the ceremonies which 
were necessary for turning him into a good Mahometan. But 
what amused me most in his history was this — that very soon 
after having embraced Islam, he was obliged in practice to be- 
come curious and discriminating in his new faith — to make war 
upon Mahometan dissenters, and follow the orthodox standard ot 
the Prophet in fierce campaigns against the Wahabees, who are 
the Unitarians of the Mussulman world. The Wahabees were 
crushed, and Osman returning home in triumph from his holy 
wars, began to flourish in the world ; he acquired property and 
became effendi, or gentleman. At the time of my visit to Cairo 
he seemed to be much respected by his brother Mahometans, and 
gave pledge of his sincere alienation from Christianity by keep- 
ing a couple of wives. He affected the same sort of reserve in 
mentioning them as is generally shown by Orientals. He invit- 
ed me, indeed, to see his hareem, but he made both his wives 
bundle out before I was admitted ; he felt, as it seemed to me, 
that neither of them would bear criticism, and I think that this 
idea, rather than any motive of sincere jealousy, induced him 
to keep them out of sight. The rooms of the hareem reminded 
me of an English nursery, rather than of a Mahometan para- 
dise. One is apt to judge of a woman before one sees her, by 
the air of elegance or coarseness with which she surrounds her 
home ; I judged Osman's wives by this test, and condemned them 
both^ But the strangest feature in Osman's character was his 
Inextinguishable nationality. In vain they had brought him 

li'.e goes and takeiS a bath. The couches on which the bathers recline would 
carry infection, a<yiording to the notion of the Europeans. Whenever, 
therefore, I took jth^ h^ik at Cairo (except the first time of my doing so), I 
avoided that part of the iMury which consists in being " put up to dry' 
npQn a kind of bed. 



CHAP. XVIII.] CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



151 



over the se^s in early boyhood — in vain had he suifered captivity, 
conversion, circumcision — in vain they had passed hirn through 
fire in their Arabian campaigns — they could not cut away or 
burn out poor Osman's inborn love of all that was Scotch ; in 
vain men called him Effendi — in vain he swept along in eastern 
robes — in vain the rival wives ad rned his hareem ; the joy of 
his heart still plainly lay in this, that he had three shelves of 
books, and that the books were thorough-bred Scotch — the Edin- 
burgh this — the Edinburgh that, and above all, I recollect, he 
prided himself upon the "Edinburgh Cabinet Library." 

The fear of the Plague is its forerunner. It is likely enough 
that at the time of my seeing poor Osman, the deadly taint was 
beginning to creep through his veins, but it was not till after I 
left Cairo that he was visibly stricken. He died. 

As soon as I had seen all that I wanted to see in Cairo, and 
in the neighborhood, I wished to make my escape from a city 
that lay under the terrible curse of the Plague, but Mysseri fell 
ill in consequence, I believe, of the hardships which he had 
been suffering in my service ; after a while he recovered suffi- 
ciently to undertake a journey, but then there was some diffi- 
culty in procuring beasts of burthen, and it was not till the nine- 
teenth day of my sojourn that I quitted the city. 

During all this time the power of the Plague was rapidly in- 
creasing. When I first arrived it was said that the daily num- 
ber of accidents " by plague, out of a population of about 
200,000, did not exceed four or five hundred, but before I went 
away the deaths v/ere reckoned at twelve hundred a day. I 
had no means of knowing whether the numbers (given out, as 
I believe they were, by officials) were at all correct, but I could 
not help knowing that from day to day the number of the dead 
was increasing. My quarters were in a street which was one 
of the chief thoroughfares of the city. The furerals in Cairo 
take place between day-break and noon, and as I w^as generally 
in my rooms during this part of the day, I could form some 
opinion as to the briskness of the Plague. I don't mean this for 
a sly insinuation that I got up every morning with the sun. It 
was not so, but the funerals of most people in decent circum- 
stances at Cairo are attended by singers and howle:s» and the 



158 



EOTHEN. 



[chap xviir. 



performa ice 5 of these people woke nrje in the early morning, 
and pre\ ented me from remaining in ignorance of what was 
going on in the street below. 

These funerals were very simply conducted. The bier was 
a shallow wooden tray carried upon a light and weak wooden 
frame. The tray had, in general, no lid, but the body was 
more or less hidden from view by a shawl or scarf. The whole 
was borne upon the shoulders of men who contrived to cut 
along with their burthens at a great pace. Two or three singers 
generally preceded the bier ; the howlers (who are paid for their 
vocal labors) followed after, and last of all came such of the 
dead man's friends and relations as could keep up with such 
a rapid procession ; these, especially the women, would get ter- 
ribly blown, and would straggle back into the rear ; many were 
fairly " beaten off." I never observed any appearance of 
mourning in the mourners ; the pace was too severe for any 
solemn affectation of grief. 

When first I arrived at Cairo the funerals that daily passed 
under my windows were many, but still there were frequent ana 
long intervals without a single howl. Every day, however (eXv 
cept one, when I fancied that I observed a diminution of funerals) 
these intervals became less frequent, and shorter, and at last 
the passing of the howlers from morn to noon was almost inces- 
sant. I believe that about one half of the whole people was 
carried off by this visitation. The Orientals, however, have 
more quiet fortitude than Europeans under afflictions of this 
sort, and they never allow the Plague to interfere with their re- 
ligious usages. I rode one day round the great burial ground. The 
tombs are strewed over a great expanse, among the vast moun- 
tains of rubbish (the accumulations of many centuries) which 
surround the city. The ground, unlike the Turkish " cities of 
the dead," which are made so beautiful by their dark cypresses, 
has nothing to sweeten melancholy — nothing to mitigate the 
odiousness of death. Carnivorous beasts and birds possess the 
place by night, and now in the fair morning it was all alive 
with fresh comers— alive with dead. Yet at this very time 
when the Plague was raging so furiously, and on this very 
ground which resounded so mournfully with the howls of arriv- 



CH4P. xvni.] CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



159 



ing funerals, preparations were going on for the religious 
festival called the Kourban Bairam. Tents were pitched and 
swings hung for the amusement of children — a ghastly holi- 
day ! but the Mahometans take a pride, and a just pride, m 
following their ancient customs undisturbed by the s Aadow of 
death. 

I did not hear whilst I was at Cairo that any prayer for a re- 
mission of the Plague had been offered up in the mosques. I 
believe that, however frightful the ravages of the disease may 
be, the Mahometans refrain from approaching Heaven with their 
complaints until the Plague has endured for a long space, and 
then at last they pray God, not that the Plague may cease, but 
that it may go to another city ! 

A good Mussulman seems to take pride in repudiating the 
European notion that the will of God can be eluded by eluding 
the touch of a sleeve. When I went to see the Pyramids of 
Sakkara, I was the guest of a noble old fellow — an Osmanlee, 
whose soft rolling language it was a luxury to hear, after suf- 
fering as I had suffered of late from the shrieking tongue of the 
Arabs ; this man was aware of the European ideas about con- 
tagion, and his first care, therefore, was to assure me that not a 
single instance of Plague had occurred in his village ; he then 
inquired as to the progress of the Plague at Cairo — I had but a 
bad account to give. Up to this time my host had carefully re- 
frained from touching me, out of respect to the European theory 
of contagion, but as soon as it was made plain that he, and not I, 
would be the person endangered by contact, he gently laid 
his hand upon my arm, in order to make me feel sure that the 
circumstance of my coming from an infected city did not occa- 
sion him the least uneasiness. That touch was worthy of Jove. 

Very different is the faith and the practice of the Europeans, 
or rather I mean of the Europeans settled in the East, and com- 
monly called Levantines. When I came to the end of my 
journey over the desert, I had been so long alone that the pros- 
pect of speaking to somebody at Cairo seemed almost a new 
excitement. I felt a sort of consciousness that I had a little of 
the wild beast about me, but I was quite in the humor to be 
charmingly tame, and to be quite engaging in my manners if I 



160 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, xviir. 



should have an opportunity of holdmg communion with any of 
the human race whilst at Cairo. I knew no one in the place, 
and had no letters of introduction, but I carried letters of credit, 
and it often happens in places remote from England that those 
" advices " operate as a sort of introduction, and obtain for the 
bearer (if disposed to receive them) such ordinary civilities as it 
may be in the power of the banker to oifer. 

Very soon after my arrival I went to the house of the Levan- 
tine, to whom my credentials were addressed. At his door 
several persons (all Arabs) were hanging about and keeping 
guard. It was not till after some delay, and the passing of some 
communications with those in the interior of the citadel, that I 
was admitted. At length, however, I was conducted through the 
court and up a flight of stairs, and finally into the apartment 
where business was transacted. The room was divided by an 
excellent, substantial fence of iron bars, and behind this grille 
the banker had his station. The truth was, that from fear of 
the plague he had adopted the course usually taken by Euro- 
pean residents, and had shut himself up in strict quarantine," — 
that is to say, that he had, as he hoped, cut himself off from all 
communication with infecting substances. The Europeans long 
resident in the East, without any, or with scarcely any excep- 
tion, are firmly convinced that the plague is propagated by con- 
tact and by contact only — that if they can but avoid the touch 
of an infecting substance, they are safe, and if they cannot, 
they die. This belief induces them to adopt the contrivance 
of putting themselves in that state of siege which they call 

Quarantine." . It is a part of their faith that metals and 
hempen rope, and also, I fancy, one or two other substances will 
not carry the infection ; and they likewise believe that the germ 
of pestilence which 'lies in an infected substance, may be 
destroyed by submersion in water, or by the action of smoke. 
They therefore guard the doors of their houses with the utmost 
eare against intrusion, and condemn themselves and all the 
members of their family, including any European servants, to a 
strict imprisonment within the walls of their dwelling. Their 
native attendants are not allowed to enter at all, but they make 
the necessary purchases of provisions, which are hauled up 



CHAP XVIII.] CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



161 



through one of the windows by means of a rope, and are then 
soaked in water. 

I knew nothing of these mysteries, and was not therefore pre- 
pared for the sort of reception which I met with. I advanced to 
the iron fence, and putting my letter between the bars, politely 
proffered it to Mr. Banker. Mr. Banker received me with a 
sad and dejected look, and not " with open arms," or with any 
arms at all, but with — a pair of tongs ! — I placed my lettei 
between the iron fingers which picked it up as if it were a viper, 
and conveyed it away to be scorched and purified by fire and 
smoke, 1 was disgusted at this reception, and at the idea that 
anything of mine could carry infection to the poor wretch, who 
stood on the other side of the grille — pale and trembling, and 
already meet for Death. I looked with something of the Maho- 
metan's feeling upon these little contrivances for eluding Fate ; 
and in this instance at least they were vain ; a few more days 
and the poor money-changer who had strived to guard the days 
of his life (as though they were coins) with bolts and bars of iron 
— he was seized by the Plague and he died. 

To people entertaining such opinions as these respecting the 
fatal effect of contact, the narrow and crowded streets of Cairo 
were terrible as the easy slope that leads to Avernus. The 
roaring Ocean and the beetling crags owe something of their 
sublimity to this — that if they be tempted, they can take the 
warm life of a man. To the contagionist, filled as he is with 
the dread of final causes, having no faith in Destiny, nor in the 
fixed will of God, and with none of the devil-may-care indiffer- 
ence which might stand him instead of creeds — -to such one, every 
rag that shivers in the breeze of a Plague-stricken city has this 
sort of sublimity. If by any terrible ordinance he be forced to 
venture forth, he sees Death dangling from every sleeve, and as 
he creeps forward he poises his shuddering limbs between the 
imminent jacket that is stabbing at his right elbow and the mur- 
derous pelisse that threatens to mow him clean down, as it 
sweeps along on his left. But most of all he dreads that which 
most of all he should love—the touch of a woman's dress, for 
mothers and wives hurrying forth on kindly errands from the 
bedsides of the dying, go slouching along through the streets 
12 



162 



EOTHEN. 



CHAP. XV m 



more wilfully and less courteously than the men. For a while 
it may be that the caution of the poor Levantine may enable him 
to avoid contact, but sooner or later, perhaps, the dreaded chance 
arrives ; that bundle of linen, with the dark tearful eyes at the 
lop of it, that labors along with the voluptuous clumsiness of 
Grisi— she has touched the poor Levantine with the hem of her 
sleeve ! from that dread moment his peace is gone ; his mind 
for ever hanging upon the fatal touch, invites the blow which he 
fears ; he watches for the symptoms of plague so carefully, that 
sooner or later they come in truth. The parched mouth is a 
sign — -his mouth is parched ; the throbbing brain — his brain does 
throb ; the rapid pulse— he touches his own wrist (for he dares 
not ask counsel of any man lest he be deserted), he touches his 
wrist, and feels how his frighted blood goes galloping out of his 
heart ; there is nothing but the fatal swelling that is wanting to 
make his sad conviction complete ; immediately he has an odd 
feel under the arm — no pain, but a little straining of the skin ; 
he would to God it were his fancy that were strong enough to 
give him that sensation ; this is the worst of all ; it now seems 
to him that he could be happy and contented with his parched 
mouth, and his throbbing brain and his rapid pulse, if only he 
could know that there were no swelling under the left arm ; but 
dares he try ? — in a moment of calmness and deliberation he 
dares not, but when for a while he has writhed under the torture 
of suspense, a sudden strength of will drives him to seek and 
know his fate ; he touches the gland and finds the skin sane and 
sound, but under the cuticle there lies a small lump like a pistol 
bullet that moves as he pushes it. Oh ! but is this for all cer- 
tainty, is this the sentence of death ? feel the gland of the other 
arm ; there is not the same lump exactly, yet something a little 
like it ; have not some people glands naturally enlarged ? — would 
to Heaven he were one ! So he does for himself the work of the 
Plague, and when the Angel of Death, thus courted, does indeed 
and in truth come, he has only to finish that which has been so 
well begun ; he passes his fiery hand over the brain of the vic- 
tim, and lets him rave for a season, but all chance-wise, of peo- 
ple and things once dear, or of people and things indifferent. 
Once more the poor fellow is back at his home in fair Provence 



CHAP. XVIII.] CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



163 



and sees the sun-dial that stood in his childhood's garden — sees 
part of his mother, and the long- since-forgotten face of that little 
dead sister — (he sees her, he says, on a Sunday morning, for all 
the church bells are ringing) ; he looks up and down through 
the universe, and owns it well piled with bales upon bales of cotton, 
and cotton eternal — so much so, that he feels — he knows — he 
swears he could make that winning hazard, if the billiard 
table would not slant upwards, and if the cue were a cue worth 
playing with ; but it is not — it's a cue that won't move — his own 
arm won't move — in short there's the devil to pay in the brain 
of the poor Levanfine, and, perhaps, the next night but one he 
becomes the " life and the soul " of some squalling jackal 
family, who fish him out by the foot from his shallow and sandy 
grave. 

Better fate was mine ; by some happy perverseness (occa- 
sioned perhaps by my disgust at the notion of being received 
with a pair of tongs), I took it into my pleasant head that all the 
European notions about contagion were thoroughly unfounded — 
that the Plague might be providential or epidemic" (as they 
phrase it), but was not contagious, and that I could not be killed 
by the touch of a woman's sleeve, nor yet by her blessed breath. 
I therefore determined that the Plague should not alter my habits 
and amusements in any one respect. Though I came to this 
resolve from impulse, I think that I took the course which was 
in effect the most prudent, for the cheerfulness of spirits which 
I was thus enabled to retain, discouraged the yellow-winged 
Angel, and prevented him from taking a shot at me. I how- 
ever so far respected the opinion of the Europeans, that I avoid- 
ed touching, when 1 could do so without privation or inconve- 
nience. This endeavor furnished me with a sort of amusement 
as I passed through the streets. The usual mode of moving 
from place to place in the city of Cairo, is upon donkeys, of 
which great numbers are always in readiness, with donkey- 
boys attached. I had two who constantly (until one of them 
died of the Plague) waited at my door upon the chance of being 
wanted. I found this way of moving about exceedingly plea- 
sant, and never attempted any other. I had only to mount my 
beast, and tell my donkey-boy the point for which I was bound 



EOTHEN. 



[chap XVIIl. 



and instantly I began to glide on at a capital pace. The streets 
of Cairo are not paved in any way, but strewed with a dry sandy 
soil so deadening to sound that the foot-fall of my donkey could 
scarcely be heard. There is no trottoir, and as you ride 
through the streets, you mingle with the people on foot ; those 
who are in your way, upon being warned by the shouts of the 
donkey-boy, move very slightly aside so as to leave you a nar- 
row lane through which you pass at a gallop. In this way you 
glide on delightfully in the very midst of crowds, without being 
inconvenienced or stopped for a moment ; it seems to you that it 
is not the donkey but the donkey-boy who wafts you on with his 
shouts through pleasant groups and air that feels thick with the 
fragrance of burial spice. " Eh ! Sheik,— Eh ! Bint, — regga- 
lek — shumalek, &c., &c. — -O old man, O virgin, get out of the 
way on the right — O virgin, O old man, get out of the way on 
the left, — this Englishman comes, he comes, he comes !" The 
narrow alley which these shouts cleared for my passage made 
it possible, though difficult, to go on for a long way without 
touching a single person, and my endeavors to avoid such con^ 
tact were a sort of game for me in my loneliness, which was 
not without interest. If I got through a street without being 
touched, I won ; if I was touched, I lost, — lost a deuce of a 
stake, according to the theory of the Europeans, but that I 
deemed to be all nonsense, — I only lost that game, and would 
certainly win the next. 

There is not much in the way of public buildings to admire 
at Cairo, but I saw one handsome mosque, to which an instruc- 
tive history is attached. A Hindostanee merchant, having 
amassed an immense fortune, settled in Cairo, and soon found 
that his riches in the then state of the political world gave him 
vast power in the city — power, however, the exercise of which 
was much restrained by the counteracting influence of other 
wealthy men. With a view to extinguish every attempt at 
rivalry the Hindostanee merchant built this magnificent mosque 
at his own expense ; when the work was complete, he invited all 
the leading men of the city to join him in prayer within the 
walls of the newly built temple, and he then caused to be mas- 
sacred all those who were sufficiently influential to cause him 



CHAP. XVIII.] 



CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



165 



any jealousy or uneasiness — in short, all " the respectable men'* 
of the place ; after this he possessed undisputed power in the 
city, and was greatly revered — he is revered to this day. It 
seemed to me that there was a touching simplicity in the mode 
which this man so successfully adopted for gaining the confi- 
dence and good- will of his fellow-citizens. There seems to be 
some improbability in the story (though not nearly so gross as 
it might appear to an European ignorant of the East, for wit- 
ness Mehemet All's destruction of the Mamelukes, a closely 
similar act and attended with the like brilliant success*), but 
even if the story be false, as a mere fact, it is perfectly true as 
an illustration — it is a true exposition of the means by which the 
respect and affection of Orientals may be conciliated. 

I ascended one day to the citadel, which commands a superb 
view of the town. The fanciful and elaborate gilt- work of the 
many minarets gives a light and florid grace to the city as seen 
, from this height, but before you can look for many seconds at 
such things, your eyes are drawn westward — drawn westward, 
and over the Nile, till they rest with a heavy stare upon the 
massive enormities of the Ghizeh pyramids. I saw within the 
fortress many yoke of men, all haggard and wo-begone, and a 
kennel of very fine lions w^ell fed and flourishing ; I say yoke of 
men, for the poor fellows were working together in bonds ; I say 
a kennel of lions ; for the beasts were not enclosed in cages, but 
simply chained up like dogs. 

I went round the Bazaars ; it seemed to me that pipes and 
arms were cheaper here than at Constantinople, and I should 
advise you therefore, if you go to both places, to prefer the mar- 
ket of Cairo. I had previously bought several of such things at 
Constantinople, and did not choose to encumber myself, or, to 
speak more honestly, I did not choose to disencumber my purse 
by making any more purchases. In the open slave-market, I 
saw about fifty girls exposed for sale, but all of them black, or 

invisible" brown. A slave agent took me to some rooms in 
the upper story of the building, and also into several obscure 

* Mehemet Ali invited the Mamelukes to a feast, and muidered them m 
the Banquet Hall. 



166 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVIIl. 



houses in the Deighborhood, with a view to show me some white 
women. The owners raised various objections to the display of 
their ware, and well they might, for I had not the least notion of 
purchasing ; some refused on account of the illegality of the pro- 
ceeding,* and others declared that all transactions of this sort 
were completely out of the question as long as the Plague was 
raging. I only succeeded in seeing one white slave who was for 
sale, but on this one the owner affected to set an immense value, 
and raised my expectations to a high pitch, by saying that the 
girl was Circassian, and was fair as the full moon." After a 
good deal of delay, I was at last led into a room, at the farther 
end of which was that mass of white linen which indicates an 
Eastern woman ; she was bid to uncover her face, and I pre- 
sently saw that though very far from being good-looking accord- 
ing to my notion of beauty, she had not been inaptly described by 
the man who compared her to the full Moon, for her large face 
was perfectly round and perfectly white. Though very young, 
she was nevertheless extremely fat. She gave me the idea of 
having been got up for sale — of having been fattened and whit- 
ened by medicines, or by some peculiar diet. I was firmly de- 
termined not to see any more of her than the face ; she was per- 
haps disgusted at this my virtuous resolve, as well as with my 
personal appearance — perhaps she saw my distaste and disap- 
pointment ; perhaps she wished to gain favor with her owner, by 
showing her attachment to his faith ; at all events she holloaed 
out very lustily and very decidedly, that she would not be 
bought by the Infidel." 

Whilst I remained at Cairo, I thought it worth while to see 
something of the Magicians, who may be considered as it were 
the descendants of .those who contended so stoutly against the 
superior power of Aaron. I therefore sent for an old man who 
was held to be the chief of the Magicians, and desired him to 
show me the wonders of his art. The old man looked and 
dressed his character exceedingly well ; the vast turban, the 
fiowmg beard, and the ample robes, were all that one could wish 
in the way of appearance. The first experiment (a very stale 



* It is not strictly lawful to sell wJiite slaves to a Christian. 



CHAP. XVIII.] 



CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE 



167 



one), whi^h he attempted to perform for me, was that of 
attempting to show the forms and faces of my absent friends, 
not to me, but to a boy brought in from the streets for the pur- 
pose, and said to be chosen at random. A mangale (pan of 
burning charcoal) was brought into my room, and the Magician 
bending over it, sprinkled upon the fire some substances which 
must have consisted partly of spices, or sweetly burning woodsj 
for immediately a fragrant smoke arose, which curled round the 
bending form of the Wizard, the while that he pronounced his 
first incantations ; when these were over, the boy was made to 
sit down, and a common green shade was bound over his brow; 
then the Wizard took ink, and still continuing his incantations, 
wrote certain mysterious figures upon the boy's palm, and 
directed him to rivet his attention to these marks, without look- 
ing aside for an instant ; again the incantations proceeded, and 
after a while the boy being seemingly a little agitated, was asked 
whether he saw anything on the palm of his hand ; he declared 
that he saw a kind of military procession with flags and banners, 
which he described rather minutely. I was then called upon 
to name the absent person whose form was to be made visible, 
I named Keate. You were not at Eaton, and I must tell you, 
therefore, what manner of man it was that I named, though I 
think you must have some idea of him already, for wherever 
from utmost Canada to Bundelcund — wherever there was the 
white-washed wall of an officer's room, or of any other apart- 
ment in which English gentlemen are forced to kick their heels, 
there, likely enough (in the days of his reign), the head of Keate 
would be seen scratched, or drawn with those various degrees of 
skill which one observes in the representations of Saints. Any- 
body, without the least notion of drawing,, could still draw a 
speaking, nay scolding likeness of Keate. If you had no pen- 
cil, you could draw him well enough with a poker, or the leg of 
a chair, of the smoke of a candle. He was little more (if more 
at all) than five feet in height, and was not very great in girth, 
but in this space was concentrated the pluck of ten battalions. 
He had a really noble voice, which he could modulate with great 
skill, but he had also the pt>'ver of quacking like an angry duck, 
and he almost always adopted this mode of communication 



168 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVIII 



in order to inspire respect ; he was a capital scholar, but his 
ingenuous learning had not " softened his manners," and had 

permitted them to be fierce " — tremendously fierce ; he had the 
most complete command over his temper — I mean over his good 
temper, which he scarcely ever allowed to appear ; you could 
not put him out of humor — that is, out of the i7/-humor which he 
thought to be fitting for a head master. His red, shaggy eye- 
brows were so prominent, that he habitually used them as arms 
and hands, for the purpose of pointing out any object towards 
which he wished to direct attention ; the rest of his features 
were equally striking in their way, and were all and all his 
own ; he wore a fancy dress, partly resembling the costume of 
Napoleon, and partly that of a widow woman. I could not by 
any possibilit)^ have named anybody more decidedly differing 
in appearance from the rest of the human race. 

Whom do you name?" — " I name John Keate." — "Now, 
what do you see ?" said the Wizard to the boy. — " I see," an- 
swered the boy, " I see a fair girl with golden hair, blue eyes, 
pallid face, rosy lips." There was a shot ! I shouted out my 
laughter to the horror of the Wizard, who, perceiving the gnoss- 
ness of his failure, declared that the boy must have known sin 
(for none but the innocent can see truth), and accordingly kicked 
him down stairs. 

One or two other boys were tried, but none could " see truth ;" 
they all made sadly " bad shots." 

Notwithstanding the failure of these experiments, I wished to 
see what sort of mummery my Magician would practise, if I 
called upon him to show me some performances of a higher 
order than those which had been attempted ; I therefore entered 
into a treaty with him, in virtue of which he was to descend 
with me into the tombs near the Pyramids, and there evoke the 
Devil. The negotiation lasted some time, for Dthemetri, as in 
duty bound, tried to beat down the Wizard as much as he could, 
and the Wizard, on his part, manfully stuck up for his price, 
declaring that to raise the Devil was really no joke, and insinu*' 
ating that to do so was an awesome crime. I let Dthemetri have 
his way in the negotiation, but I fell in reality very indifferent 
about the sum to be paid, and for this reason, namely, that the 



CHAP. XVIII.] 



CAIRO AND THE PLA &UE. 



16i 



payment (except a very small present, which I might make, or 
not, as I chose) was to be contingent on success. At length the 
hargain was made, and it was arranged that after a few days 
to be allowed for preparation, the Wizard should raise the Devil 
for two pounds ten, play or pay — no Devil, no piastres. 

The Wizard failed to keep his appointment. I sent to know 
why the deuce he had not come to raii^e the Devil. The truth 
was, that my Mahomet had gone to the mountain. The Plague 
had seized him, and he died. 

Although the Plague had now spread terrible havoc around 
him, I did not see very plainly any corresponding change in. the 
looks of the streets until the seventh day after my arrival ; I then 
first observed that the city was silenced. There were no out- 
ward signs of Despair, nor of violent tori'or, but many of the 
voices that had swelled the busy hum of men were already 
hushed in death, and the survivors, so used to scream and 
screech in their earnestness whenever they bought or sold, now 
showed an unwonted indifference about the affairs of this world ; 
it was less worth while for men to haggle, and haggle, and crack 
the sky with noisy bargains, when the Great Commander was 
there, who could pay all their debts with the roll of his drum." 

At this time (the year was 1835), I was informed that of 
twenty-five thousand people at Alexandria, twelve thousand had 
died already ; the Destroyer had come rather later to Cairo, but 
there was nothing of weariness in his strides. The deaths came 
faster than ever they befell in the Plague of London, but the 
calmness of Orientals under such visitations, and the habit of 
using biers for interment, instead of burying coffins along with 
the bodies, rendered it practicable to dispose of the Dead in the 
usual way, without shocking the people by any unaccustomed 
spectacle of horror. There was no tumbling of bodies into carts, 
as in the Plague of Florence and the Plague of London ; every 
man, according to his station, was properly buried, and that ia 
the usual way, except that he went to his grave at a more hur, 
ried pace than might have been adopted upder ordinary circum* 
stances. 

The funerals, which poured through the streets, were not ihg 
only public evidence of deaths. In Cairo this custom prevails ; 



170 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVIII 



at the instant of a man's death (if his property is sufficient to 
justify the expense), professional howlers are employed ; I be- 
lie ^e that these persons are brought near to the dying man, when 
his end appears to be approaching, and the moment that life is 
gon 3, they lift up their voices, and send forth a loud wail from the 
chamber of Death. Thus I knew when my near neighbors 
died ; sometimes the howls were near ; sometimes more dis- 
tant. Once I was awakened in the night by the wail of death 
in the next house, and another time by a like howl from the 
house opposite ; and there were two or three minutes, I recol- 
lect, during which the howl seemed to be actually running along 
the street. 

I happened to be rather teazed at this time by a sore throat, 
and thought it would be well to get it cured, if I could, before 
I again started on my travels. I therefore inquired for a Frank 
doctor, and was informed that the only one then at Cairo was a 
young Bolognese Refugee, who was so poor that he had not been 
able to take flight, as the other medical men had done. At such 
a time as this, it was out of the question to send for an European 
physician ; a person thus summoned w^ould be sure to suppose 
that the patient was ill of the Plague, and would decline to come. 
I therefore rode to the young Doctor's residence : after expe- 
riencing some little difficulty in finding where to look for him, I 
ascended a flight or two of stairs, and knocked at his door. No 
one came immediately, but after some little delay the Medico 
himself opened the door and admitted me. I, of course, made 
him understand that I had come to consult him, but before enter- 
ing upon my throat grievance, I accepted a chair, and exchanged 
a sentence or two of common-place conversation. Now, the 
natural common-place of the city at this season was of a gloomy 
sort — " Come va la peste ?" how goes the plague ?) and this was 
precisely the question I put. A deep sigh, and the words Sette 
cento per giorno, Signor" (seven hundred a day), pronounced in 
a tone of the deepest sadness and dejection, were the answer I 
received. The day was not oppressively hot, yet I saw that the 
Doctor was transpiring profusely, and even the outside surface 
of the thick shawl dressing-gown, in which he had wrapped him- 
self, appeared to be ooist ; he was a handsome, pleasant-looking 



CHAP. XVIIl ] 



CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



171 



young fellow, but the deep melancholy of his tone did not tempt 
me to prolong the conversation, and without further delay I re- 
quested that my throat might be looked at. The Medico held 
my chin in the usual way, and examined my throat ; he then 
wrote mo a prescription, and almost immediately afterwards I 
bid him farewell, but as he conducted me towards the dooi I 
observed an expression of strange and unhappy watchfulness in 
his rolling eyes. It was not the next day, but the next day but 
one, if I rightly remember, that I sent to request another inter- 
view with my Doctor ; in due time Dthemetri, who was my 
messenger, returned, looking sadly aghast — he had met the 
Medico," for so he phrased it, coming out from his house — in 
a bier !" 

It was of course plain that when the poor Bolognese was look- 
ing at my throat, and almost mingling his breath with mine, he 
was stricken of the Plague. I suppose that the violent sweat in 
which I found him, had been produced by some medicine which 
he must have taken in the hope of curing himself. The peculiar 
rolling of the eyes which I had remarked, is, I believe, to ex- 
perienced observers, a pretty sure test of the Plague. A Rus- 
sian acquaintance of mine, speaking from the information of 
men who had made the Turkish campaigns of 1828 and 1829, 
told me that by this sign the officers of Sabalkansky's force were 
able to make out the Plague-stricken soldiers with a good deal of 
certainty. 

It so happened that most of the people with whom I had any- 
thing to do, during my stay at Cairo, were seized with Plague, 
and all these died. Since I had been for a long time en route 
before I reached Egypt, and was about to start again for another 
long journey over the Desert, there were of course many little 
matters touching my wardrobe, and my travelling equipments, 
which required to be attended to whilst I remained in the city. 
It happened so many times that Dthemetri's orders in respect to 
these matters were frustrated by the deaths of the tradespeople, 
and others whom he employed, that at last I became quite ac- 
customed to th3 peculiar manner which he assumed when he 
prepared to announce a new death to me. The poor fellow na- 
turally supposed that I should feel some uneasiness at hearing of 



172 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XVIII. 



the " accidents " which happened to persons employed by me, 
and he therefore communicated their deaths, as though they 
were the deaths of friends ; he would cast down his eyes, and 
look like a man abashed, and then gently, and with a mournful 
gesture allow the words, " Morto, Signer," to come through 
his lips. I don't know how many of such instances occurred, 
but they were several, and besides these (as I told you before), 
my banker, my doctor, my landlord, and my magician, ail 
died of the Plague. A lad who acted as a helper in the house 
which I occupied, lost a* brother and a sister within a few hours. 
Out of my two established donkey-boys one died. I did not 
hear of any instance in which a plague-stricken patient had 
recovered. 

Going out one morning, I met unexpectedly the scorching 
breath of the Khamseen wind, and fearing that I should faint 
under the horrible sensations which it caused, I returned to my 
rooms. Reflecting, however, that I might have to encounter 
this wind in the desert, where there would be no possibility of 
avoiding it, I thought it would be better to brave it once more 
in the city, and to try whether I could really bear it or not. I 
therefore mounted my ass, and rode to old Cairo, and along the 
gardens by the banks of the Nile. The wind was hot to the 
touch as though it came from a furnace ; it blew strongly, but 
yet with such perfect steadiness, that the trees bending under its 
force remained fixed in the same curves without perceptibly 
waving ; the whole sky was obscured by a veil of yellowish 
grey, which shut out the face of the sun. The streets were 
utterly silent, being indeed almost entirely deserted, and not with- 
out cause, for the scorching blast, whilst it fevers the blood, 
closes up the pores of the skin, and is terribly distressing, there- 
fore, to every animal' that encounters it. I returned to my rooms 
dreadfully ill. My head ached with a burning pain, and my 
pulse bounded quick, and fitfully, but perhaps (as in the instance 
of the poor Levantine, whose death I was mentioning), the fear 
and excitement which I felt in trying my own wrist, may have 
made my blood flutter the faster. 

It is a thoroughly well believed theory, that during the Qon- 
tinuance of the Plague, you can't be ill of any other febrile 



CHA1». XVIII.J 



CAIRC AND THE PLAGUE. 



173 



malady ; an unpleasant privilege that ! for ill T was, and ill ot 
fever, and I anxiously wished that the ailment might turn out to 
be anything rather than Plague. I had some right to surmise 
that my illness may have been merely the effect of the hot wind, 
and this notion was encouraged by the elasticity of my spirits, 
and by a strong forefeeling that much of my destined life in this 
world was yet to come, and yet to be fulfilled. That was my 
instinctive belief, but when I carefully weighed the probabilities 
on the one side, and on the other, I could not help seeing that 
the strength of argument was all against me. There was a 
strong antecedent likelihood in favor of my being struck by the 
same blow, as the rest of the people who had been dying around 
me. Besides, it occurred to me, that after all, the universal 
opinion of the Europeans upon a medical question, such as that 
of contagion, might probably be correct, and if it were, I was so 
thoroughly compromised,'' and especially by the touch and 
breath of the dying Medico, that I had no right to expect any 
other fate than that v/hich now seemed to have overtaken me. 
Balancing as well as I could all the considerations which hope 
and fear suggested, I slov/ly and reluctantly came to the con- 
clusion that according to all merely reasonable probability the 
Plague had come upon me. 

You would suppose that ibis conviction would have induced 
me to write a few farewell lines to those who were dearest, and 
that having done that, I should have turned my thoughts towards 
the world to come. Such however was not the case ; I believe 
that the prospect of death often brings with it strong anxieties 
about matters of comparatively trivial import, and certainly 
with me the whole energy of the mind was directed towards the 
one petty object of concealing my illne?s until the latest pos- 
sible moment — until the delirious stage. I did not believe that 
either Mysseri, or Dtbemetri, who had served me so faithfully 
in all trials, would have deserted me (as most Europeans are 
wont to do) v/hen they knew that I was stricken by Plague, but 
I shrank from the idea of putting them to this test, and I dreaded 
the consternation which the knowledge of my illness wo ild be 
eure to o( casion. 

I was very ill indeed at the moment when my dinner was 



174 • 



EOTHEN. 



[chap XVIII. 



served, and my soul sickened at the sight of the food, but I had 
luckily the habit of dispensing with the attendance of servants 
during my meal, and as soon as I was left alone. I made a mel- 
ancholy calculation of the quantity of food which I should have 
eaten if I had been in my usual health, and filled my plates ac- 
cordingly, and gave myself salt, and so on, as though I were 
going to dine ; I then transferred the viands to a piece of the 
omnipresent " Times" newspaper, and hid them away in a cup- 
board, for it was not yet night, and I dared not to throw the food 
into the street until darkness came. I did not at all relish this 
p]?ocess of fictitious dining, but at length the cloth was removed, 
and I gladly reclined on my divan (I would not lie down), with 
the ''Arabian Nights" in my hand. 

I had a feeling that tea would be a capital thing for me, but I 
would not order it until the usual hour. When at last the time 
came, I drank deep draughts from the fragrant cup. The effect 
was almost instantaneous. A plenteous sweat burst through my 
skin, and watered my clothes through and through. I kept my- 
self thickly covered. The hot, tormenting weight which had 
been loading my brain was slowly heaved away. The fever was 
extinguished. I felt a new buoyancy of spirits, and an unusual 
activity of mir i. I went into my bed under a load of thick 
covering, and when the morning came, and I asked myself how 
I was, I found that I was thoroughly well. 

I was very anxious to procure, if possible, some medical 
advice for Mysseri, whose illness prevented my departure. 
Every one of the European practising doctors, of whom there 
had been many, had either died or fled ; it was said, however, 
that there was an Englishman in the medical service of the 
Pasha, who quietly remained at his post, but that he never en- 
gaged in private practice. I determined to try if I could obtain 
assistance in this quarter. I did not venture at first, and at such 
a time as this, to ask him to visit a servant who was prostrate on 
the bed of sickness, but thinking that I might thus gain an op- 
portunity of persuading him to attend Mysseri, I wrote a note 
mentioning my own affair of the sore throat, and asking foz the 
benefit of his medical advice ; he instantly followed back my 
messenger, and was at once shown up intc my room ; I entreated 



CHAP. XVIII.] 



CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE. 



him to stand off, telling him fairly how deeply I was " comprow 
mised," and especially by my contact with a person actually ill, 
and since dead of Plagae. The generous felloWj with a good- 
humored laugh at the terrors of the contagionists, marched 
straight up to me, and forcibly seized my hand, and shook it 
with manly violence. I felt grateful indeed, and swelled with 
fresh pride of race, because that my countryman could carry 
himself so nobly. He soon cured Mysseri, as well as me, and 
all this he did from no other motives than the pleasure of doing 
a kindness, and the delight of braving a danger. 

At length the great difficulty* which 1 had had in procuring 
beasts for my departure was overcome, and now, too, I was to 
have the new excitement of travelling on dromedaries. With 
two of these beasts, and three camels, I gladly wound my way 
from out of the pest-stricken city. As I passed through the 
streets, I observed a fanatical-looking elder, who stretched forth 
his arms, and lifted up his voice in a speech which seemed to 
have some reference to me ; requiring an interpretation, I found 
that the man had said, " The Pasha seeks camels, and he finds 
them not — the Englishman says, 4et camels be brought,' and 
behold — there they are !" 

I no sooner breathed the free, wholesome air of the desert, 
than I felt that a great burthen which I had been scarcely con- 
scious of bearing, was lifted away from my mind. For nearly 
three weeks I had lived under peril of death ; the peril ceased, 
and not till then did 1 know how much alarm and anxiety I had 
really been suffering. 

* The difficulty was occasioned by the immense exertions which the 
Pasha was making tr collect camels f r military purposes. 



EOTHEN. [chap xk 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Pyramids 

I WENT 10 see, and to explore the Pyramids. 

Familiar to one from the days of early childhood are the forms 
of the Egyptian Pyramids, and now, as I approached them from 
the banks of the Nile, I had no print, no picture before me, and 
yet the old shapes were there ; there was no change ; they were 
just as I had always known them. I straightened myself in my 
stirrups, and strived to persuade my understanding that this was 
real Egypt, and that those angles which stood up between me 
and the West were of harder stuff, and more ancient than the 
paper pyramids of the green portfolio. Yet it was not till I 
came to the base of the great Pyramid, that reality began to 
weigh upon my mJnd. Strange to say, the bigness of the dis- 
tinct blocks of stone was the first sign by which I attained to feel 
the imimensity of the whole pile. When I came, and trod, and 
touched with my hands, and climbed, in order that by climbing 
1 might come to the top of one single stone, then, and almost 
suddenly, a cold sense and understanding of the Pyramid's 
enormity came down overcasting my brain. 

Now try to endure this homely, sick-nursish illustration of the 
effect produced upon one's mind by the mere vastnessof the great 
Pyramid : when I was very young (between the ages, I believe, 
of three and five years old), being then of delicate health, I was 
often in time of night the victim of a strange kind of mental 
oppression ; I lay in my bed perfectly conscious, and with open 
eyes, but without power to speak, or to move, and all the while 
my brain was oppressed to distraction by the presence of a single 
and abstract idea, — the idea of solid Immensity. It seemed to 
me in my agonies, that the horror of this visitation arose from 
its coming upon me without form or shape—that the close 



CHAP. XIX.] 



THE PYRAMIDS. 



177 



presence of the direst monster ever bred in Hell would have 
been a thousand times more tolerable, than that simple idea of 
solid size ; my aching mind was fixed, and riveted down upon 
the mere quality of vastness, vastness, vastness ; and was not 
permitted to invest with it any particular object. If I could have 
done so, the torment would have ceased. When at last I was 
roused from this state of suffering, I could not of course in those 
days (knowing no verbal metaphysics, and no metaphysics at all, 
except by the dreadful experience of an abstract idea), I could 
not of course find words to describe the nature of my sensations, 
and even now I cannot explain why it is that the forced con- 
templation of a mere quality, distinct from matter, should be so 
terrible. Well, now my eyes saw and knew, and my hands 
and my feet informed my understanding, that there was nothing 
at all abstract about the great Pyramid^ — it was a big triangle, 
sufficiently concrete, easy to see, and rough to the touch ; it 
could not, of course, affect me with the peculiar sensation which 
I have been talking of, but yet there was something akin to that 
old night-mare agony in the terrible completeness with which a 
mere mass of masonry could fill and load my mind. 

And Time too ; the remoteness of its origin, no less than the 
enormity of its proportions, screens an Egyptian Pyramid from 
the easy and familiar contact of our modern minds ; at its base 
the common Earth ends, and all above is a world — one not created 
of God, — not seeming to be made by men's hands, but rather, 
the sheer giant work of some old dismal age weighing down this 
younger planet. 

Fme sayings ! but the truth seems to be, after all, that the 
Pyramids are quite of this world ; that they were piled up inU 
the air for the realization of some kingly crotche^ i about immor^ 
tality, — some priestly longing for burial fees ; a d that as for thr 
building— they were built like coral rocks by ^warms of insects 
— by swarms of poor Egyptians, who were not only the abjee 
tools and slaves of power, but who also eat onions for the rew ai'C* 
of their immortal labors !* The Pyramids are quite of thr < 
world. 

* Herodotus, in an after age, stood by with his note book, and ^ot, as Ul 
thought, the exact returns of all the rations served out. 
13 



17S 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XIX 



I of course ascended to the summit of the great Pyramid, and 
also explored its chambers, but these I need not describe. The 
first time that I went to the Pyramids of Ghizeh, there were a 
number of Arabs hanging about in its neighborhood, and want- 
ing to receive presents on various pretences ; their Sheik ^vas 
wi'h them. There was also present an ill looking fellow in 
soldier's uniform. This man on my departure claimed a reward, 
on the ground that he had maintained order and decorum 
amongst the Arabs ; his claim was not considered valid by my 
Dragoman, and was rejected accordingly : my donkey-boys after- 
wards said they had overheard this fellow propose to the Sheik 
to put me to death whilst I was in the interior of the great 
Pyramid, and to share with him the booty ; fancy a struggle for 
life in one of those burial chambers, with acres and acres of solid 
masonry between oneself and the daylight ! I felt exceedingly 
glad that I had not nmde the rascal a present. 

I visited the very Ancient Pyramids of Aboucir and Sakka- 
ra ; there are many of these, and of various shapes and sizes, 
and it struck me that taken together they might be considered 
as showing the progress and perfection (such as it is) of Pyra- 
midical Architecture. One of the Pyramids at Sakkara is 
almost a rival for the full grown monster of Ghizeh ; others are 
scarcely more than vast heaps of brick and stone ; these last 
suggested to me the idea that after all the Pyramid is nothing 
more nor less than a variety of the sepulchral mound so com- 
mon in most countries (including I believe Hindostan, from 
whence the Egyptians are supposed to have come). Men ac- 
customed to raise these structures for their dead Kings, or con- 
querors, would carry the usage with them in their migrations, 
but arriving in Egypt, and seeing the impossibility of finding 
earth sufficiently tenacious for a mound, they would approxi- 
m.ate as nearly as might be to their ancient custom by raising 
up a round heap* of these stones, — in short, conical pyramids; 
of these there are several at Sakkara, and the materials of some 
are thrown together without any order or regularity. The 
transition from this simple form to that of the square angular 
pyramid, was easy and natural, and it seemed to me that the 
graciations through v/hich the style passed from infancy up to its 
Digiture enormity, could plainly be traced at Sakkara. 



CHAP XX.] 



THE SPHYNX. 



179 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Sphynx 

And near the Pyramids, more wondrous, and more awful than 
all else in the land of Egypt, there sits the lonely Sphynx. 
Comely the creature is, but the comeliness is not of this world ; 
the once worshipped beast is a deformity and a monster to this 
generation, and yet you can see that those lips, so thick and 
heavy, were fashioned according to some ancient mould of 
beauty — some mould of beauty now forgotten — forgotten be- 
cause that Greece drew forth Cytherea from the flashing foam of 
the ^^^gean, and in her image created new forms of beauty, and 
made it a law among men that the short and proudly wreathed 
lip should stand for the sign and the main condition of loveli- 
ness, through all generations to come. Yet still there lives on 
the race of those who were beautiful in the fashion of the elder 
world, and Christian girls of Coptic blood, will look on you with 
the sad, serious gaze, and kiss you your charitable hand with 
the big, pouting lips of the very Sphynx, 

Laugh, and mock if you will at the worship of stone idols, 
but mark ye this, ye breakers of images, that in one regard, the 
stone idol bears awful semblance of Deity — unchangefulness in 
the midst of change — the same seeming will and intent for ever 
and ever inexorable ! Upon ancient dynasties of Ethiopian and 
Egyptian Kings — upon Greek and Roman, upon Arab and 
Ottoman conquerors — upon Napoleon dreaming of an Eastern 
Empire — upon battle and pestilence — upon the ceaseless misery 
of the Egyptian race — upon keen-eyed travellers — Herodotus 
yesterday, and Warburton* to-day — upon all, and more this un- 

* Eliot Warburton, who is known to be the author of those brilliantly 
sparkling papers, the " Episodes of Eastern Travel," which lit up our last 
November. His book ("The Crescent and the Cross") must, and will b« 
capital. 



ISO 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XX. 



worldly Sphynx has watched, and watched like a Providence 
with the same earnest eyes, and the same sad, tranquil mien. 
And we, we shall die, and Islam will wither away, and the 
Englishman, leaning far over to hold his loved India, will plant 
a firm foot on the banks of the Nile, and sit in the seats of the 
Faithful, and still that sleepless rock will lie watching and 
watching the works of the new, busy race, with those same sad, 
earnest eyes, and the same tranquil mien everlasting. You 
dare not mock at the Sphynx. 



CHAP XXI ] 



CAIRO TO SUEZ. 



181 



CHAPTER XXL 
Cairo to Suez. 

The "DrFDmedary" of Egypt and Syria, is not the two-humped 
animal described by that name in books of natural history, but 
is in fact of the same family as the camel, .o which it stands in 
about the same relation as a racer to a cart-horse. The fleet- 
ness and endurance of this creature are extraordinary. It is 
not usual to force him into a gallop, and I fancy from his make 
tha^t it would be quite impossible for him to maintain that pace 
for any length of time, but the animal is on so large a scale that 
the jog-trot at which he is generally ridden implies a progress 
of perhaps ten or twelve miles an hour, and this pace, it is said, 
he can keep up incessantly without food, or water, or rest, for 
three whole days and nights. 

Of the two dromedaries which I had obtained for this journey, 
I mounted one myself, and put Dthemetri on the other. My 
plan was, to ride on with Dthemetri to Suez as rapidly as the 
fleetness of the beasts would allow, and to let Mysseri (who was 
still weak from the effects of his late illness) come quietly on 
with the camels and baggage. 

The trot of the Dromedary is a pace terribly disagreeable to 
the rider, until he becomes a little accustomed to it ; but after 
the first half hour I so far schooled myself to this new exercise, 
that I felt capable of keeping it up (though not without aching 
limbs) for several hours together. Now, therefore, I was anx- 
ious to dart forward, and annihilate at once the whole space that 
divided me from the Red Sea. Dthemetri, however, could not 
get on at all ; every attempt which he made to trot seemed to 
threaten the utter dislocation of his whole frame, and indeed I 
doubt whether any one of Dthemetri's age (nearly forty I think) 
and unaccustomed to such exercise, could have borne it at all 



182 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXI 



easily ; besides, the dromedary which fell to his lot was evi- 
dently a very bad one ; he every now and then came to a dead 
stop, and coolly knelt down as though suggesting that the rider 
had better get off at once, and abandon he attempt as one that 
Avas utterly hopeless. 

When for the third or fourth time I saw Dthemetri thus plant- 
ed, I lost my patience, and went on without him. For about two 
hours, I think, I advanced without once looking behind me. I 
then paused, and cast my eyes back to the western horizon. 
There was no sign of Dthemetri, nor of any other living creature. 
This I expected, for I knew that I must have far out-distanced 
all my followers. I had ridden away from my party merely by 
way of gratifying my impatience, and with the intention of 
stopping as soon as I felt tired, until I was overtaken. I now 
observed, however (which I had not been able to do whilst ad- 
vancing so rapidly), that the track which I had been following 
was seemingly the track of only one or two camels. I did not 
fear that I had diverged very largely from the true route, but 
still I could not feel any reasonable certainty, that my party 
would follow any line of march within sight of me. 

I had to consider, therefore, whether I should remain where I 
was, upon the chance of seeing my people come up, or whether 
I would push on alone, and find my way to Suez. I had now 
learned that I could not rely upon the continued guidance of any 
track, but I knew tJhat (if maps were right) the point for which 
I was bound bore just due East of Cairo, and I thought that 
although I might miss the line leading most directly to Suez, I 
could not well fail to find my way sooner or later to the Red 
Sea. The worst of it was that I had no provision of food or 
water with me, and already I was beginning to feel thirst. I 
deliberated for a minute, and then determined that I would 
abandon all hope of seeing my party again in the desert, and 
would push forward as rapidly as possible towards Suez. 

It was not, I confess, without a sensation of awe that I swept 
with my sight the vacant round of the horizon, and remembered 
that ] was all alone and unprovisioned in the midst of the arid 
waste ; but this very awe gave tone and zest to the exultation 
with which I felt myself launched. Hitherto, in all my wander- 



CHAP. XXI.] 



CAIRO TO SUEZ 



183 



ings I had been under the care of other people — sailors, Tatars, 
guides and Dragomen had watched over my welfare but now at 
last, I was here in this African desert, and I myself, and no other, 
had charge of my life ; I liked the office well ; I had the great- 
est part of the day before me, a very fair dromedary, a fur pe- 
lisse, and a brace of pistols, but no bread, and no water ; for 
that I must ride, — and ride I did. 

For several hours I urged forward my beast at a rapid, 
though steady pace, but now the pangs of thirst began to tor- 
ment me. I did not relax my pace, however, and I had not suf- 
fered long, when a moving object appeared in the distance be- 
fore me. The intervening space was soon traversed, and I 
found myself approaching a Bedouin Arab mounted on a camel, 
attended by another Bedouin on foot. They stopped. I saw 
that, as usual, there hung from the pack-saddle of the camel, a 
large skin water-flask which seemed to be well filled ; I steered 
my dromedary close up alongside of the mounted Bedouin, 
caused my beast to kneel down, then alighted, and keeping the 
end of the halter in my hand, went up to the mounted Bedouin 
without speaking, took hold of his v/ater- flask, opened it. and 
drank long and deep from its leathern lips. Both of the Be 
douins stood fast in amazement and mute horror, and really if 
they had never happened to see an European before, the appari- 
'jon was enough to startle them. To see for the first time a coat 
and a waistcoat with the pale semblance of a human head at 
the top, and for this ghastly figure to come swiftly out of the 
horizon, upon a fleet dromedary — approach them silently, and 
with a demoniacal smile, and drink a deep draught fiom their 
water-flask — this was enough to make the Bedouins stare a 
little : they, in fact, stared a great deal — not as Europeans stare, 
with a restless and puzzled expression of countenance, but with 
features all fixed, and rigid, and with still, glassy eyes; befoie 
they had time to get decomposed from their state of petrifaction, 
I had remounte-i my dromedary, and was darting away towards 
the East. 

Without pause, or remission of pace, I continued to press for- 
ward, but after a while. I found to my confusion, that the slight 
track, which had hitherto guided me, now failed altogether ; I 



184 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. xxi» 



began to fear that I must have been all along following the 
course of some wandering Bedouins, and I felt that if this were 
the case, my fate was a little uncertain. Tc comfort myself, I 
began to nurse up a theory that death by thirst was not so terri- 
ble as inexperienced people were apt to imagine. (Say what 
you will, there is comfort in theories ; some of the repudiating 
Americans of the United States entertain a theory that they are 
distinguishable from common swindlers, and the national pride 
of the young Republic" is wholly supported by the indulgence 
of this singular fancy.) 

I had no compass with me, but I determined upon the eastern 
point of the horizon as accurately as I could, by reference to the 
sun, and so laid down for myself a way over the pathless sands. 

But now my poor dromedary, by whose life and strength I 
held my own, she began to show signs of distress ; a thick, 
clammy, and glutinous kind of foam gathered about her lips, and 
piteous sobs burst from her bosom in the tones of human misery ; 
I doubted for a moment, whether I would give her a little rest, 
or relaxation of pace, but I decided that I would not, and conti- 
nued to push forward as steadily as before. 

The character of the country became changed ; I had ridden 
away from the level tracts, and before me now, and on either 
side, there were vast hills of sand, and calcined rockis that inter- 
rupted my progress, and baffled my doubtful road, but I did my 
best ; with rapid steps I swept round the base of the hills, 
threaded the winding hollows, and at last, as I rose in my swift 
course to the crest of a lofty ridge, Thalatta ! Thalatta ! by 
Jove ! I saw the Sea ! 

M}^ tongue can tell where to find the clue to many an old pagan 
creed, because that (distinctly from all mere admiration of the 
beauty belonging to Nature's works) I acknowledge a sense of 
mystical reverence, when first I look to see some illustrious 
feature of the globe — some coast-line of Ocean — some mighty 
river or dreary mountain range, the ancient barrier of kingdoms. 
But the Red Sea ! It might well claim my earnest gaze by force 
of the great Jewish migration which connects it with the history 
of our own Religion. From this very ridge, it is likely enough, 
the panting Israelites first saw that shining inlet of the sea. Ay \ 



CHAP. XXI.] 



CAIRO TO SUEZ. 



185 



ay ! but moreover, and best of all, that beckoning Sea assured 
my eyes, and proved how well I had marked out the East for my 
path, and gave me good promise that sooner or later the time 
would come for me to rest and drink. It was distant, the Sea, 
but I felt my ov/n strength, and I had heard of the strength of 
dromedaries. I pushed forward as eagerly as though I had 
spoiled the Egyptians, and were flying from Pharaoh's police. 

I had not yet been able to discover any symptoms of Suez, 
but after a while I descried in the distance a large, blank, iso- 
lated building ; I made towards this, and in time got down to it. 
The building was a fort, and had been built there for the protec- 
tion of a well, which it contained within its precincts. A cluster 
of sm.all huts adhered to the fort, and in a short time I was 
receiving the hospitality of the inhabitants who were grouped 
upon the sands near their hamlet. To quench the fires of my 
throat with about a gallon of muddy water, and to swallow a 
little of the food placed before me, was the work of few minutes, 
and before the astonishment of my hosts had even begun to sub- 
side, I was pursuing my onward journey. Suez, I found, was 
still three hours distant, and the Sun going down in the West 
warned me that I must find some other guide to keep me in the 
right direction. This guide I found in the most fickle and un- 
certain of the elements. For some hours the wind had been 
freshening, and it now blew a violent gale ; it blev/ not fitfully, 
and in squalls, but with such remarkable steadiness that I felt 
convinced it would come from the same quarter for several 
hours. When the Sun set, therefore, I carefully looked for the 
point from which the wind was blowing, and found that it came 
from the very West, and was blowing exactly in the direction of 
my route. I had nothing to do therefore but to go straight to 
leeward, and this was not difficult, for the gale blew with such 
immense force that if I diverged at all from its line I instantly 
felt the pressure of the blast on the side towards which I was 
deviating. Very soon after sun-set there came on complete 
darkness, but the strong wind guided me well, and sped me, too, 
on my way. 

I had pushed on for about, I think, a couple of hours after 
night-fall^ when I saw the ghmmerof a light in the distance, and 



186 



EOTHEN. 



[CHAP. XXI. 



this I ventured to hope must be Suez. Upon approaching it, 
however, I found that it was only a solitary fort, and I passed on 
without stopping. 

On I w^ent, still riding down the wind, when an unlucky acci- 
dent occurred, for which, if you like, you can have your laugh 
against me. I have told you already what sort of lodging it is 
which you have upon the back of a camel. You ride the drome- 
dary in the same fashion ; you are perched rather than seated 
upon a bunch of carpets or quilts upon the summit of the hump. 
It happened that my dromedary veered rather suddenly from her 
onward course ; meeting the movement, I mechanically turned 
my left wrist as though I were holding a bridle rein, for the com- 
plete darkness prevented my eyes from reminding me that I had 
nothing but a halter in my hand ; the expected resistance failed, 
for the halter w^as hanging upon that side of the dromedary's 
neck towards which I was slightly leaning ; I toppled over, head 
foremost, and then went failing and falling through air till my 
crown came whang against the ground. And the ground too 
was perfectly hard (compacted sand), but the thickly wadded 
head-gear which I wore for protection against the sun saved my 
life. The notion of my being able to get up again after falling 
head-foremost from such an immense height seemed to me at first 
too paradoxical to be acted upon, but I soon found that I was not 
a bit hurt. My dromedary utterly vanished ; I looked round me 
and saw the glimmer of a light in the fort which I had lately 
passed, and I began to work my way back in that direction. 
The violence of the gale made it hard for me to force my way 
towards the West, but I succeeded at last in regaining the fort. 
To this, as to the other fort which I had passed, there was 
attached a cluster of huts, and I soon found myself surrounded 
by a group of villanous, gloomy-looking fellows. It was a 
horrid bore for me to have to swagger and look big at a time 
when I felt so particularly small on account of my tumble, and 
my lost dromedary, but there was no help for it ; I had no 
Dthemetri now to strike terror" for me. I knew hardly one 
word of Arabic, but somehow or other I contrived to announce 
it as my absolute will and pleasure that these fellows should find 
me the means of gainirg Suez. They acceded, and having a 



CHAP. XXI.] 



CAIRO TO V^UEZ. 



157 



donkey, they saddled it for me, and appointed one of their num- 
ber to attend me on foot. 

I afterwards found that these fellows were not Arabs, but 
Algerine refugees, and that they bore the character of being sad 
scoundrels. They justified this imputation to some extent on the 
following day. They allowed Mysseri with my baggage, and 
the camels, to pass unmolested, but an Arab lad belonging to the 
party happened to lag a little way in the rear, and him (if they 
were not maligned) these rascals stripped and robbed. Low in- 
deed is the state of bandit morality, when men will allow the 
sleek traveller with well laden camels to pass in quiet, reserving 
their spirit of enterprise for the tattered turban of a miserable 
boy. 

I reached Suez at last. The British Agent, though roused 
from his midnight sleep, received me in his home with the utmost 
kindness and hospitality. Oh ! by Jove, how delightful it was to 
lie on fair sheets, and to dally with sleep, end to wake, and to 
sleep, and to wake once more, for the sake of sleeping again ! 



183 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXII 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Suez. 

I WAS hospitably entertained by the British Consul or Agent, as he 
is there styled ; he is the employe of the East India Company, 
and not of the Home Government. Napoleon, during his stay ot 
five days at Suez, had been the guest of the Consul's father, and 
I was told that the divan in my apartment had been the bed of the 
great Commander. 

There are two opinions as to the point at which the Israelites 
passed the Red Sea ; one is that they traversed only the very 
small creek at the Northern extremity of the inlet, and that they 
entered the bed of the water at the spot on which Suez now 
stands — the other that they crossed the sea from a point eighteen 
miles down the coast. The Oxford theologians who, with Mil- 
man their Professor,* believe that Jehovah conducted his chosen 
people without disturbing the order of Nature, adopt the first 
view, and suppose that the Israelites passed during an ebb tide 
aided by a violent wind. One among many objections to this 
supposition is, that the time of a single ebb would not have been 
sufficient for the passage of that vast multitude of men and 
beasts, or even for a small fraction of it. Moreover the creek 
to the north of this point can be compassed in an hour, and in 
two hours you can make the circuit of the salt marsh over which 
the sea may have extended in former times ; if therefore the 
Israelites crossed so high up as Suez, the Egyptians, unless in- 
fatuated by divine interference, might easily have recovered their 
stolen goods from the encumbered fugitives, by making a slight 
detour. The opinion which fixes the point of passage at eighteen 
miles distance, and from thence right across tke Ocean depths to 

* See Milman's Hisi*;ory of the Jews. 1st Edit. Family Library. 



CHAP XXII.] 



SUEZ 



1S9 



the Eastern side of the sea, is supported by the unanimous tra- 
dition of the people, whether Christians or Mussulmans, and is 
consistent \vith Holy writ ; " the waters were a wall unto them 
on their right hand, and on their left,^^ The Cambridge Mathe- 
maticians seem to think that the Israelites were enabled to pass 
over dry land by adopting a route not usually subject to the 
influx of the Sea ; this notion is plausible in a merely hydrosta- 
tical point of view, and is supposed to have been adopted by 
most of the fellows of Trinity, but certainly not by Thorp, who 
is one of the most amiable of their number ; it is difficult to 
reconcile this theory with the account given in Exodus, unless 
we can suppose that the words sea " and waters are there 
used in a sense implying dry land. 

Napoleon, when at Suez, made an attempt to follow the sup- 
posed steps of Moses by passing the creek at this point, but it 
seems, according to the testimony of the people at Suez, that he 
and his horsemen managed the matter in a way more resembling 
the failure of the Egyptians, than the success of the Israelites. 
According to the French account. Napoleon got out of the diffi- 
culty by that warrior-like presence of mind which served him 
so well when the fate of nations depended on the decision of a 
moment ; he ordered his horsemen to disperse in all directions, 
in order to multiply the chances of finding shallow water, and 
was thus enabled to discover a line by which he and his people 
were extricated. The story told by the people of Suez is very 
different; they declare that Napoleon parted from his horse, got 
thoroughly submerged, and was only fished out by the assistance 
of the people on shore. 

I bathed twice at the point assigned to the passage of the 
Israelites, and the second time that I did so, I chose the time of 
low water, and tried to walk across, but I soon found myself out 
of my depth, or at least in water so deep that I could only 
advance by swimming. 

The dromedary which had bolted in the Desert, was brought 
into Suez the day after my arrival, but my pelisse and my pis- 
tols, which had been attached to the saddle, had disappeared; 
these articles were treasures of great importance to me at that 
time, and I moved the Governor of the town to make a! 1 possible 



190 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXII 



exertions for their recovery ; he acceded to my wishes as well 
as he could, and ver^ obligingly imprisoned the first seven poor 
fellows he could lay his hands on. 

At first the Governor acted in the matter from no other mo- 
tive than that of courtesy to an English traveller, but afterwards, 
and when he saw the value which I set upon the lost property, 
he pushed his measures with a degree of alacrity and heat, 
which seemed to show that he felt a personal interest in the mat- 
ter ; it was supposed either that he expected a large present in 
the event of succeeding, or that he was striving by all means to 
trace the property in order that he might lay his hands on it 
after my departure. 

I went out sailing for some hours, and when I returned I was 
horrified to find that two men had been bastinadoed by order of 
the Governor, with a view to force them to a confession of their 
theft. It appeared, however, that there really was good ground 
for supposing them guilty, since one of the holsters was actually 
found in their possession. It was said, too (but I could hardly 
believe it), that whilst one of the men was undergoing the bas- 
tinado, his comrade was overheard encouraging him to bear the 
torment without peaching. Both men, if they had the secret, 
were resolute in keeping it, and were sent back to their dungeon. 
I, of course, took care that there should be no repetition of the 
torture, at least as long as I remained at Suez. 

The Governor was a thorough Oriental, and until a com- 
paratively recent period had shared in the old Mahometan feel- 
ing of contempt for Europeans. It happened, however, one day 
that an English gun-brig had appeared ofi" Suez, and sent her 
boats ashore to take in fresh water. Now fresh water at Suez 
is a somev/hat scarce and precious commodity ; it is kept in 
tanks, the chief of which is at some distance from the place. 
Urder these circumstances the request for fresh water was 
refused, or at all events was not complied with. The Cap- 
tain of the brig was a simple-minded man, with a strongish 
will, and he at once declared that if his casks were not filled 
in three hours, he would destroy the whole place. A great 
people indeed ! " said the Governor — "a wonderful people, the 
English ! He instantly caused every cask to be filled to the 



CHAP. XXII,] 



SUEZ. 



191 



brim from his own tank, and ever afterwards entertained for the 
English a degree of affection and respect for which I felt infi- 
nitely indebted to the gallant Captain. 

The day after the abortive attempt to extract a confession 
from the prisoners, the Governor, the Consul and I, sat in Coun- 
cil, 1 know not how long, with a view of prosecuting the search 
for the stolen goods. The sitting, considered in the light of a 
criminal investigation, was characteristic of the Eiist. The pro- 
ceedings began as a matter of course by the Prosecutor's smoking 
a pipe, and drinking coffee with the Governor, who was Judge, 
Jury, and Sheriff. I got on very well with him (this was not 
my first interview), and he gave me the pipe from his lips in 
testimony of his friendship. I recollect, however, that mj prime 
adviser, thinking me, I suppose, a great deal too shy and retiring 
in my manner, entreated me to put up my boots, and to soil the 
Governor's divan, in order to inspire respect, and strike terror. 
I thought it would be as well for me to retain the right of re- 
specting myself, and that it was not quite necessary for a well 
received guest to strike any terror at all. 

Our deliberations were assisted by the numerous attendants 
who lined the three sides of the room not occupied by the divan. 
Any one of these who took it into his head to offer a suggestion, 
would stand forward, and hum.ble himself before the Governor, 
and then state his views, which were always more or less at- 
tended to. 

After a great deal of fruitless planning, the Governor directed 
that the prisoners should be brought in. I was shocked v/hen 
they entered, for I v/as not prepared to see them come carried 
into the room upon the shoulders of others. It had not occurred 
to me that their battered feet would be too sore to bear the con- 
tact of the floor. They persisted in asserting their innocence. 
The Governor wanted to recur to the torture, but that I pre- 
vented, and the men were carried back to their dungeon. 

A scheme was now suggested by one of the attendants which 
seemed to me childishly absurd, but it was nevertheless tried. 
The plan was to send a man to the prisoners, who w^as to make 
them believe that he had obtained entrance into their dungeon 
upon some other pretence, but that he had in reality com-e to 



1€2 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, xxn 



trotV with them for the purchase of the stolen goods. Thia 
fchaL. " expedient of course failed. 

Tlie Governor himself had not nominally the power of life 
^nd death over the people in his district, but he could if he chose 
j.end them to Cairo, and have them hanged there. I proposed 
therefore that the prisoners should be threatened with this fate. 
The answer of the Governor made me feel rather ashamed of 
my effeminate suggestion ; he said that if I wished it he would 
willingly threaten them with death, but he also said that if he 
threatened, he should execute the threat. 

Thinking at last that nothing was to be gained by keeping the 
prisoners any longer in confinement, I requested that they might 
be set free. To this the Governor acceded, though only, as he 
said, out of favor to me, for he had a strong impression that the 
men were guilty. I went down to see the prisoners let out with 
my own eyes. They were very grateful, and fell down to the 
earth, kissing my boots. I gave them a present to console them 
for their w^ounds, and they seemed to be highly delighted. 

Although the matter terminated in a manner so satisfactory to 
the principal sufferers, there were symptoms of some angry ex- 
citement in the place ; it was said that public opinion was much 
shocked at the fact that Mahometans had been beaten on ac- 
count of a loss sustained by a Christian. My journey was to 
recommence the next day, and it was hinted that if I persevered 
in my intention of proceeding, the people would have an easy 
and profitable opportunity of wreaking their vengeance on me 
If ever they formed any scheme of the kind, they at all events 
refrained from any attempt to carry it into effect. 

One of the evenings during my stay at Suez was enlivened 
by a triple wedding. There was a long and slow procession. 
Some carried torches, and others were thumping drums, and 
firing pistols. The bridegrooms came last, all walking abreast ; 
my only reason for mentioning the ceremony (which was other- 
wise uninteresting) is that I scarcely ever in all my life saw any 
phennmena so ridiculous, as the meekness and gravity of those 
three young men, whilst being " led to the altar." 



CHAP XXIII ] 



SUEZ TO GAZA 



1»3 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Suez to Gaza, 

Thj5 route over the Desert from Suez to Gaza is not frequented 
by merchants, and is seldom passed by a traveller. This part 
of the country is less uniformly barren than the tracts of shift- 
ing sand which lie on the El Arish route. The shrubs on which 
the camels feed are more frequent, and there are many spots on 
which the sand is mingled with so much of productive soil as to 
admit the growth of corn. The Bedouins are driven out of this 
district during the summer by the total want of water, but be- 
fore the time for their forced departure arrives, they succeed in 
raising little crops of barley from these comparatively fertile 
patches of ground ; they bury the fruit of their labors, leaving 
marks by which, upon their return, they may be able to recog 
nize the spot. The warm dry sand stands them for a safe gra- 
nary. The country, at the time I passed it (in the month of 
April), was pretty thickly sprinkled with Bedouins expecting 
their harvest ; several times my tent was pitched along side of 
their encampments ; I have told you already what the impres- 
sions were which these people produced upon my mind. 

I saw several creatures of the antelope kind in this part of the 
Desert, and one day my Arabs surprised in her sleep, a young 
gazelle (for so I call her), and took the darling prisoner. I 
carried her before me on my camel for the rest of the day, and 
kept her in my tent all night ; I did all I could to coax her, but 
the trembling beauty refused to touch food, and would not be 
comforted ; whenever she had a seeming opportunity of escap- 
ing, she struggled with a violence so painfully disproportioned 
to her fine, delicate limbs, that I could not continue the cruel 
attempt to make her my own. In the morning, therefore, I set 
her free, anticipating some pleasure from seeing the joyous 
H 



194 



EOTHEN 



[chap. XXIll 



bound with which, as I thought, she would return to her native 
freedom. She had been so stupefied, however, by the exciting 
events of the preceding day and night, and was so puzzled as 
to the road she should take, that she went off very deliberately, 
and with an uncertain step. She went away quite sound in 
limb, but her intellect may have been upset. Never, in all 
likelihood, had she seen the form of a human being, until the 
dreadful moment when she woke from her sleep, and found her- 
self in the gripe of an Arab. Then her pitching and tossing 
journey on the back of a camel, and lastly, a soiree with me by 
candlelight ! I should have been glad to know, if I could, that 
her heart was not utterly broken. 

My Arabs were somewhat excited one day by discovering the 
fresh print of a foot — the foot, as they said, of a lion. I had no 
conception that the Lord of the forest (better known as a crest) 
ever stalked away from his jungles to make inglorious war in 
these smooth plains against antelopes and gazelles. I supposed 
that there must have been some error of interpretation, and that 
the Arabs meant to speak of a tiger. It appeared, however, 
that this was not the case ; either the Arabs were mistaken, or 
the noble brute, uncooped and unchained, had but lately crossed 
my path. 

The camels with which I traversed this part of the Desert, 
were very different in their ways and habits from those which 
you get on a frequented route. They were never led. There 
was not the slightest sign of a track in this part of the Desert 
but the camels never failed to choose the right line. By the di 
rection taken at starting, they knew, I suppose, the point (some 
encampment) for which they were to make. There is always a 
leading camel (generally, 1 believe, the eldest), who marches 
foremost and determines the path for the whole party. If it 
happens that no one of the camels has been accustomed to lead 
the others, there is very great d'fficulty in making a start ; if 
you force your beast forward for a moment he will contrive to 
wheel and draw back, at the same time looking at one of the 
other camels with an expression and gesture exactly equivalent 
to " apres vous." The responsibility of finding the way is evi- 
dently assumed very unwillingly. After some time^ however^ 



CHA-P. xxiii.] 



SUEZ TO GAZA. 



195 



it becomes understood that one of the beasts has reluctantly con- 
sented to take the lead, and he accordingly advances for that 
purpose. For a minute or two he goes on with much indecision, 
taking first one line and then another, but soon, by the aid of 
some mysterious sense, he discovers the true direction and fol- 
lows it steadily from morning to night. When once the leader- 
ship is established, you cannot by any persuasion, and can 
scarcely by any force, induce a junior camel to walk one single 
step in advance of the chosen guide. 

On the fifth day I came to an Oasis, called the Wady el Arish, 
a ravine, or rather a gully, through w^hich during a part of the 
year there runs a stream of water. On the sides of the gully 
there were a number of those graceful trees which the Arabs 
call Tarfa. The channel of the stream v/as quite dry in the 
part at which we arrived, but at about half a mile off some 
w^ater was found, which, though very muddy, was tolerably 
sweet. This was a happy discovery, for the water which we 
had brought from the neighborhood of Suez was rapidly putri- 
fying. 

The want of foresight is axi anomalous part of the Bedouin's 
character, for it does not result either from recklessness or stu- 
pidity. I know of no human being whose body is so thoroughly 
the slave of mind as that of the Arab. His mental anxieties 
seem to be for ever torturing every nerve and fibre of his body, 
and yet with all this exquisite sensitiveness to the suggestions of 
the mind, he is grossly improvident. I recollect, for instance, 
that when setting out upon this passage of the Desert, my Arabs, 
in order to lighten the burthen of their camels, were most anx- 
ious that we should take with us only two days' supply of water. 
They said that by the time that supply was exhausted, we should 
arrive at a spring which would furnish us for the rest of the 
journey. My servants very wisely, and with much pertinacity, 
resisted the adoption of this plan, and took care to have both 
the large skins well filled. We proceeded, and found no water 
at aL, either at the expected spring, or for many days after- 
wards, so that nothing but the precaution of my own people 
saved us from the very severe suffering which we should have 
endured if we had entered upon the Desert with only a two days* 



199 



ECTHEN. 



[chap. XXIII. 



supply. The Arabs themselves being on fcot would have suf- 
fered much more than I from the consequences of their improvi- 
dence. 

This unaccountable want of foresight prevents the Bedouin 
from appreciating at a distance of eight or ten days the amoimt 
of the misery which he entails upon himself at the end of that 
period. The Bedouin's dread of a city is one of the most pain- 
ful mental affections that I have ever observed, and yet when 
the whole breadth of the Desert lies between him and the town 
to which you are going, he will freely enter into an agreement to 
land you in the city for which you are bound. When, however, 
after many a day of toil, the distant minarets at length appear, 
the poor Bedouin relaxes the vigor of his pace — his step becomes 
faltering and undecided — every moment his uneasiness increases, 
and at length he fairly sobs aloud, and embracing your knees, 
implores with the most piteous cries and gestures, that you will 
dispense with him and his camels and find some other means of 
entering the city. This, of course, one can't agree to, and the 
consequence is, that one is obliged to witness and resist the most 
moving expressions of grief and fond entreaty. I had to go 
through a most painful scene of this kind when I entered Cairo, 
and now the horror which these wilder Arabs felt at the notion 
of entering Gaza led to consequences still more distressing. The 
dread of cities results partly from a kind of wild instinct which 
has always characterized the descendants of Ishmael, but partly 
too, from a well-founded apprehension of ill-treatment. So often 
it happens that the poor Bedouin, when once jammed in between 
walls, is seized by the Government authorities for the sake of his 
camels, that his innate horror of cities becomes really well jus- 
tified by results. 

The Bedouins with whom I performed this journey were wild 
fellows of the Desert, quite unaccustomed to let out themselves 
and their beasts for hire, and when they found that by the natural 
ascendency of Europeans they were gradually brought down to 
a state of subserviency to me, or rather to my attendants, they 
bitterly repented, I believe, of having placed themse'ves under 
our control. They were rather difficult fellows to manage, and 
gave Dthemetri a good deal of trouble, but I liked them all the 
better for that. 



CHAP. XXIII.] 



SUEZ TO GAZA. 



197 



Selim, the chief of the party and the man to whom all our 
camels belonged, was a fine, wild, stately fellow ; there were, I 
think, five other Arabs of the party, but when we approached the 
end of the journey, they, one by one, began to make off* towards 
the neighboring encampments, and by the time that the minarets 
of Gaza were in sight, Selim, the owner of the camels, was the 
only one who remained ; he, poor fellow, as we neared the 
Town, began to discover the same terrors that my Arabs had 
shown when I entered Cairo. I could not possibly accede to his 
entreaties and consent to let my baggage be laid down on the 
bare sands, without any means of having it brought on into the 
city. So at length when poor Selim had exhausted all his rhe- 
toric of voice and action and tears, he fixed his despairing eyes 
for a minute upon the cherished beasts that were his only wealth, 
and then wildly and suddenly dashed away into the farther 
Desert. I continued my course and reached the city at last, but 
it was not without immense difficulty that we could constrain the 
poor camels to pass under the hated shadow of its walls. They 
were the genuine beasts of the Desert, and it was sad and painful 
to witness the agony which they suffered when thus they were 
forced to encounter the fixed habitations of men ; they shrank 
from the beginning of every high narrow street, as though from 
the entrance of some horrible cave, or bottomless pit ; they 
sighed and wept like women. When at last we got them within 
the court-yard of the Khan, they seemed to be quite broken-hearted, 
and looked round piteously for their loving master, but no Selim 
came. I had imagined that he would enter the town secretly 
by night, in order to carry off those five fine camels, his only 
wealth in this world, and seemingly the main object of his affec- 
tion. But no — his dread of civilisation was too strong ; during 
the whole of the three days that I remained at Gaza, he failed 
to show himself, and thus sacrificed, in all probability, not only 
his camels but the money which 1 had stipulated to pay him for 
the passage of the Desert. In order, however, to do all I could 
towards saving him from this last misfortune, I resorted to a 
contrivance which is frequently adopted by the Asiatics. I 
assembled a group of grave and worthy Mussulmans in the 
court-yard of the Khan, and in their presence paid over the 



198 



EOTHEN. 



[chap, XXIII 



gold to a Sheik who was accustomed to communicate with the 
Arabs of the Desert. All present solemnly promised that if 
ever Selim should come to claim his rights they would beay 
true witness in his favor. 

I saw a great deal of my old friend the Governor of Gaza. 
He had received orders to send back all persons coming from 
Egypt, and force them to perform quarantine at El Arish ; he 
knew so little of quarantine regulations, however, that his dress 
was actually in contact with mine, whilst he insisted upon the 
stringency of the orders which he had received. He was in- 
duced to make an exception in my favor, and I rewarded him 
with a musical snuff-box which I had bought at Smyrna, for the 
purpose of presenting it to any man in authority who might hap- 
pen to do me an important service. The Governor was im- 
mensely delighted with this toy, and took it off to his harem with 
great exultation ; he soon, however, returned with an altered 
countenance ; his wives, he said, had got hold of the box, and put 
it out of order. So short-lived is human happiness in this frail 
world ! 

The Governor fancied that he should incur less risk if I re- 
mained at Gaza for two or three days more, and he wanted me 
to become his guest ; I persuaded him, however, that it would be 
better for him to let me depart at once ; he wanted to add to my 
baggage a roast lamb, and a quantity of other cumbrous viands, 
but I escaped with half a horse-load of leaven bread, which was 
very good of its kind, and proved a most useful present. The 
air with which the Governor's slaves affected to be almost break- 
ing down under the weight of the gifts which they bore on their 
shoulders, reminded me of the figures ons see: in some of the old 
pictures. 



CHAP. XXIV.l 



GAZA TO NABLOUS 



19d 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Gaza to Nablous. 

Passing now once again through Palestine and Syria, I retained 
the tent which 1 had used in the Desert, and found that it added 
very much to my comfort in travelling. Instead of turning out 
a family from some wretched dwelling, and depriving them of a 
repose which I was sure not to find for myself, I now, when 
evening came, pitched my tent upon some smiling spot within a 
few hundred yards of the village to which I looked for my sup- 
plies — that is, for milk and bread, if I had it not with me, and 
sometimes also for eggs. The worst of it is, that the needful 
viands are not to be obtained by coin, but only by intimidation. 
I at first tried the usual agent — money ; Dthemetri, with one or 
two of my Arabs, went into the village near which I was en- 
camped, and tried to buy the required provisions, offering liberal 
payment, but he came back empty-handed. I sent him again, 
but this time he held different language ; he required to see the 
elders of the place, and threatening dreadful vengeance, directed 
them upon their responsibility to take care that my tent should 
be immediately and abundantly supplied. He was obeyed at 
once, and the provisions which had been refused to me as a 
purchaser, soon arrived, trebled, or quadrupled, when demanded 
by way of a forced contribution. I quickly found (I think it re- 
quired two experiments to convince me) that this peremptory 
method was the only one which could be adopted with success ; 
it never failed. Of course, however, when the provisions have 
been actually obtained, you can, if you choose, give money ex- 
ceeding the value of the provisions to somebody ; ar English — a 
thorough-bred English traveller will always do this (though it is 
contrary to the custom of the country), for the quiet (false quiet 
though it be) of his own conscience, but so to order the matter 



200 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. xxi\ 



that the poor fellows who have been forced to contribute, should 
be the persons to receive the value of their supplies, is not pos- 
sible 5 for a traveller to attempt anything so grossly just as that, 
would be too outrageous. The truth is, that the usage of the 
East, in old times, required the people of a village, at their own 
cost, to supply the wants of travellers, and the ancient custom 
is now adhered to, not in favor of travellers generally, but in 
favor of those who are deemed sufficiently powerful to enforce 
its observance ; if the villagers, therefore, find a man waiving 
this right to oppress them, and offering coin for that which he is 
entitled to take without payment, they suppose at once that he is 
actuated by fear (fear of them, poor fellows !) and it is so delight- 
ful to them to act upon this flattering assumption, that they will 
forego the advantage of a good price for their provisions, rather 
than the rare luxury of refusing for once in their lives to part 
with their own property. 

The practice of intimidation, thus rendered necessary, is 
utterly hateful to an Englishman ; he finds himself forced to 
conquer his daily bread by the pompous threats of the Drago- 
man, his very subsistence, as well as his dignity and personal 
safety, being made to depend upon his servants assuming a tone 
of authority which does not at all belong to him. Besides, he 
can scarcely fail to see, that as he passes through the country, 
he becomes the innocent cause of much extra injustice — many 
supernumerary wrongs. This he feels to be especially the case 
when he travels with relays. To be the owner of a horse or a 
mule, within reach of an Asiatic potentate, is to lead the life of 
the hare and the rabbit — hunted down and ferreted out. Too 
often it happens that the works of the field are stopped in the day 
time, that the inmates of the cottage are roused from their mid- 
night sleep by the sudden coming of a Government officer, and 
the poor husbandman, driven by threats and rewarded by curses, 
if he would not lose sight for ever of his captured beasts, must 
quit all and follow them ; this is done that the Englishman may 
travel ; he would make his way more harmlessly if he could, 
but horses or mules he must have, and these are his ways and 
means. 

The town of Nablous is beautiful it lies in a valley hemmed 



CHAP. XXIV.] 



GAZA TO NABLOUS. 



201 



in with olive groves, and its buildings are interspersed vi^ith fre- 
quent pa'm-trees. It is said to occupy the site of the ancient 
Sychem. ' I know not whether it was there, indeed, that the 
father of the Jews was accustomed to feed his flocks ; but the 
valley is green and smiling, and is held at this day by a race 
more brave and beautiful than Jacob's unhappy descendants- 

Nablous is the very furnace of Mahometan bigotry, and I be- 
lieve that only a few months before the time of my going there, 
it would have been quite unsafe for a man, unless strongly 
guarded, to show himself to the people of the town in a Frank 
costume ; but since their last insurrection, the Mahomedans of 
the place had been so far subdued by the severity of Ibrahim 
Pasha, that they dared not now offer the slightest insult to an 
European. It was quite plain, however, that the effort with 
which the men of the old school refrained from expressing their 
opinion of a hat and a coat, was horribly painful to them ; as I 
walked through the streets and bazaars, a dead silence prevailed ; 
every man suspended his employment, and gazed on me with a 
fixed, glassy look, v/hich seemed to say, God is good, but how 
marvellous and inscrutable are his ways, that thus he permits 
this white-faced dog of a Christian to hunt through the paths of 
the faithful !" 

The insurrection of these people had been more formidable 
than any other that Ibrahim Pasha had to contend with ; he was 
only able to crush them at last by the assistance of a fellow 
renowned for his resources in the way of stratagem and cunning 
as well as for his knowledge of the country. This personage 
was no other than Aboo Goosh the father of lies ")* who was 
taken out of prison for the purpose. The " father of lies " ena- 
bled Ibrahim to hem in the insurrection, and extinguish it ; he 
was rewarded with the Governorship of Jerusalem, which he 
held when I was there ; I recollect, by the bye, that he tried one 
of his stratagems upon me. I did not go to see him as I ought 
in courtesy to have done, during my stay at Jerusalem, but I 
happened to be the owner of a rather handsome amber tchibouk 

* This is an appellation, not implying blame, but merit ; the " lies " v^^hich 
It purports to affiliate are feints and cun'iing stratagems rather than the baser 
kind of falsehoods. The expression in short has nearly the same meaning 
as the English word " Yorkshireman." 



502 



EOTHEN 



[chap. XXIV 



piece which the Governor heard of, and by scrie means contriv- 
ed to see ; he sent to me, and dressed up a statement that he 
would give me a price immensely exceeding the sum which I 
nad given for it. He did not add my tchibouque to the rest of his 
trophies. 

There was a small number of Greek Christians resident in 
Nablous, and over these the Mussulmans held a high hand, not 
even permitting them to speak to each other in the open streets 
but if the Moslems thus set themselves above the poor Christians 
of the place, I, or rather my servants, soon took the ascendant 
over them, I recollect that just as we were starting from the 
place, and at a time when a number of people had gathered 
together in the main street to see our preparations, Mysseri, 
being provoked at some piece of perverseness on the part of 
a true Believer, coolly thrashed him with his horsewhip before the 
assembled crowd of fanatics. I was much annoyed at the time, 
for I thought that the people would probably rise against us. 
They turned rather pale, but stood still. 

The day of my arriving at Nablous was a fete — the new 
year's day of the Mussulmans.* Most of the people were amus- 
ing themselves in the beautiful lawns and shady groves without 
the city. The men (except myself) were all remotely apart 
from the other sex. The women in groups were diverting them- 
selves and their children with swings. They were so handsome 
that they could not keep up their yashmacks ; I believe that they 
had never before looked upon a man in the European dress, and 
when they now saw in me that strange phenomenon, and saw, 
too, how they could please the creature by showing him a 
glimpse of beauty, they seemed to think it was better fun to do 
this, than to go on playing with swings. It was always, how« 
ever, with a sort of Zoological expression of countenance that 
tliey looked on the horrible monster from Europe, and whenever 
one of them gave me to see for one sweet instant, the blushing of 
her unveiled face, it was with the same kind of air as that with 
which a young, timid girl will edge her way up to an elephant, 
and tremblingly give him a nut from the tips of her rosy 
fingers. 

* The 29th of April. 



CHAP. XXV.] 



MARIAM. 



303 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Mariam. 

There is no spirit of Propagandism in the Mussulmans of the 
Ottoman dominions. True it is that a prisoner of War, or a 
Christian condemned to death, may on some occasions save his 
life by adopting the religion of Mahomet, but instances of this 
kind are now exceedingly rare, and are quite at variance v/ith 
the general system. Many Europeans I think would be sur- 
prised to learn that which is nevertheless quite true, namely that 
an attempt to disturb the religious repose of the Empire by the 
conversion of a Christian to the Mahometan faith is positively 
illegal ; an incident which occurred at Nablous, and which I 
am going to mention, showed plainly enough that the unlawful- 
ness of such interference is recognized even in the most bigoted 
strong-hold of Islam. 

During my stay at this place I took up my quarters at the 
house of the Greek Papa, as he is called, that is, the Greek 
Priest ; the priest himself had gone to Jerusalem upon the busi- 
ness I am going to tell you of, but his wife remained at Nablous, 
and did the honors of her home. 

Soon after my arrival, a deputation from the Greek Christians 
of the place came to request my interference in a matter which 
had occasioned vast excitement. 

And now I must tell you how it came to happen, as it did 
continually, that people thought it worth while to claim the as- 
sistance of a mere traveller, who was totally devoid of all just 
pretensions to authority, or influence of even the humblest de- 
scription, and especially I must explain to you how i": was that 
the power thus attributed, did really belong to me, oi rather to 
my Dragoman. Successive political convulsions haa at length 
fairly loosed the people of Syria from their former rules of con- 



204 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXV 



duct, and from all their old habits of reliance. The violence 
and success with vvnich Mehemet Ali crushed the insurrections of 
the Mahometan population, had utterly beaten down the head of 
Islam, and extinguished, for the time at least, those virtues and 
vices which had sprung from the Mahometan Faith. Success so 
complete as Mehemet All's, if it had been attained by an ordi- 
nary Asiatic potentate, would have induced a notion of stability. 
The readily bowing mind of the Oriental would have bowed 
low and long under the foot of a conqueror whom God had thus 
strengthened. But Syria was no field for contests strictly 
Asiatic — Europe was involved, and though the heavy masses of 
Egyptian troops clinging down with strong gripe upon the land, 
might seem to hold it fast, yet every peasant practically felt and 
knew that in Vienna, or Petersburg, or London, there were four 
or five pale looking men who could pull down the star of the 
Pasha with shreds of paper and ink. The people of the country 
knew, too, that Mehemet Ali was strong with the strength of the 
Europeans, — strong by his French General, his French tactics, 
and his English engines. Moreover, they saw that the person, 
the property, and even the dignity of the humblest European 
was guarded with the most careful solicitude. The consequence 
of all this was, that the people of Syria looked vaguely, but 
confidently, to Europe for fresh changes ; many would fix upon 
some nation, France or England, and steadfastly regard it as 
the arriving sovereign of Syria ; those whose minds remained in 
doubt, equally contributed to this new state of public opinion, 
which no longer depended upon Religion and ancient habits, 
but upon bare hopes and fears. Every man wanted to know, — 
not who was his neighbor, but who was to be his ruler ; whose 
feet he was to kiss, and by whom his feet were to be ultimately 
beaten. Treat your friend, says the proverb, as though he were 
one day to become your enemy, and your enemy as though he 
were one day to become your friend. The Syrians went fur- 
ther, and seemed inclined to treat every stranger as though he 
might one day become their Pasha. Such was the state of cir- 
cumstances and of feeling which now for the first time had 
thoroughly opened the mind of S¥estern Asia for the reception 
of Europeans and European ideas. The credit of the English 



CHAP. XXV.] 



MARIAM. 



205 



especially was so great, that a good Mussulman flying from the 
conscription, or any other persecution, would ccme to seek from 
the formerly despised hat, that protection which the turban could 
no longer afford, and a man high in authority (as for instance the 
Governor in command of Gaza) would think that he had won a 
prize, or at all events a valuable lottery ticket, if he obtained a 
written approval of his conduct from a simple traveller. 

Still, in order that any immediate result should follow from 
all this unwonted readiness in the Asiatic to succumb to the 
European, it was necessary that some one should be at hand, 
who could see, and would push the advantage ; I myself had 
neither the inclination nor the power to do so, but it happened 
that Dthemetri, who as my Dragoman represented me on all 
occasions, was the very person of all others best fitted to avail 
himself with success of this yielding tendency in the Oriental 
mind. If the chance of birth and fortune had made poor Dthe- 
metri a tailor during some part of his life, yet Religion and the 
literature of the Church which he served, had made him a Man, 
and a brave Man, too. The lives of Saints with which he was 
familiar, were full of heroic actions, which invited imitation, 
and since faith in a creed involves a faith in its ultimate triumph, 
Dthemetri was bold from a sense of true strength ; his educa- 
tion, too, though not very general in its character, had been 
carried quite far enough to justify him in pluming himself upon 
a very decided advantage over the great bulk of the Mahometan 
population, including the men of authority. With all this con- 
sciousness of religious and intellectual superiority, Dthemetri 
had lived for the most part in countries lying under Mussulman 
Governments, and had witnessed (perhaps, too, had suffered 
from) their revolting cruelties ; the result was, that he abhorred 
and despised the Mahometan faith, and all who clung to it. 
And this hate was not of the dry, dull, anc inactive sort ; Dthe- 
metri was in his sphere a true Crusader, and whenever there 
appeared a fair opening in the defences of Islam, he was ready 
and eager to make the assault. These sentiments, backed by a 
consciousness of understanding the people with whom he had to 
do, made Dthemetri not only firm and resolute in his constant 
interviews with men in authority, but sometime*?, also (as you 



206 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXV. 



may know already), very violent, and even insulting. This 
tone, which I always disliked, though I was fain to profit by it, 
invariably succeeded : it swept away all resistance ; there was 
nothing in the then depressed and succumbing mind of the Mus- 
sulman that could oppose a zeal so warm and fierce. 

As for me, I of course stood aloof from Dthemetri's crusades, 
and did not even render him any active assistance when he was 
striving (as he almost always was, poor fellow) on my behalf ; 
I was only the death's head and white sheet with which he 
scared the enemy ; I think, however, that I played this spectral 
part exceedingly well, for I seldom appeared at all in any discus- 
sion, and whenever I did, I was sure to be pale and calm. 

The event which induced the Christians of Nablous to seek 
for my assistance was this. A beautiful young Christian, between 
fifteen and sixteen years old, had lately been married to a man 
of her own creed. About the same time (probably on the 
occasion of her wedding) she was accidentally seen by a Mus- 
sulman Sheik of great wealth and local influence, who instantly 
became madly enamored of her. The strict morality, which 
so generally prevails where the Mussulmans have complete 
ascendency, prevented the Sheik from entertaining any such 
sinful hopes as an European might have ventured to cherish 
under the like circumstances, and he saw no chance of gratify- 
ing his love, except by inducing the girl to embrace his own 
creed ; if he could induce her to take this step, her marriage 
with the Christian would be dissolved, and then there would be 
nothing to prevent him from making her the last, and brightest 
of his wives. The Sheik was a practical man, and quickly 
began his attack upon the theological opinions of the bride ; he 
did not assail her with the eloquence of any Imaums or Mussul- 
man Saints — he did not press upon her the eternal truths of the 
"Cow,"* or the beautiful morality of the "Table,"* — he sent 
her no tracts — not even a copy of the holy Koran. An old 
woman acted as missionary. She brought with her a whole 
basket full of arguments — jewels, and shawls, and scarfs, and all 

* These are the names given by the Prophet to certain chapters of the 
Koran. 



CHAP XXV.] 



MARIAM. 



207 



kinds of persuasive finery. Poor Mariam ! she put on the jewels, 
and took a calm view of the Mahometan Religion in a little hand 
mirror — she could not be deaf to such eloquent ear-rings, and 
the great truths of Islam came home to her young bosom in the 
delicate folds of the Cashmere ; she was ready to abandon her 
faith. 

The Sheik knew very well that his attempt to convert an 
infidel was illegal, and that his proceedings would not bear 
investigation, so he took care to pay a large sum to the Governor 
of Nablous in order to obtain his connivance. 

At length Mariam quitted her home, and placed herself under 
the protection of the Mahometan authorities, who, however, 
refrained from delivering her into the arms of her lover, and 
detained her in a mosque, until the fact of her real conversion 
(which had been indignantly denied by her relatives) should be 
established. For two or three days the mother of the young 
convert was prevented from communicating with her child by 
various evasive contrivances, but not, it would seem, by a flat 
refusal. At length it was announced that the young lady's pro- 
fession of faith might be heard from her own lips. At an hour 
appointed, the friends of the Sheik and the relatives of the 
damsel met in the mosque. The young convert addressed her 
mother in a loud voice, and said, God is God, and Mahomet 
is the Prophet of God, and thou, oh ! my mother, art an infidel 
feminine dog !" 

You would suppose that this declaration, so clearly enounced, 
and that, too, in a place where Mahometanism is, perhaps, more 
supreme than in any other part of the Empire, would have suf- 
ficed to confirm the pretensions of the lover. This, however, 
was not the case. The Greek Priest of the place was despatched 
on a mission to the Governor of Jerusalem (Aboo Goosh) in 
order to complain against the proceedings of the Sheik, and 
obtain a restitution of the bride. Meanwhile the Mahometan 
authorities at Nablous were so conscious of having acted unlaw- 
fully, in conspiring to disturb the faith of the beautiful infidel, 
that they hesitated to take any further step, and the girl was still 
detained in the mosque. 

Thus matters stood when the Christians of the place came and 
sought to obtain my assistance. 



^08 



EGTHEN. 



[GHAP. XXV 



I felt (with regret) that I had no personal interest in the matter, 
and I also thought that there was no pretence for my interfering 
with the conflicting claims of the Christian husband, and the 
Mahometan lover, and I therefore declined to take any ste-p. 

My speaking of the husband, by the by, reminds me that he 
was extremely backward about the great work of recovering hi$ 
youthful bride. The relations of the girl, who felt themselves 
disgraced by her conduct, were vehement, and excited to a high 
pitch, but the Menelaus of Nablous was exceedingly calm and 
composed. 

The fact that it was not technically my duty to interfere in a 
matter of this kind, was a very sufficient, and yet a very unsatis- 
factory reason for my refusal of all assistance. Until you are 
placed in situations of this kind, you can hardly tell how painful 
it is to refrain from intermeddling in other people's affairs — to 
refrain from intermeddling when you feel that you can do so with 
happy effect, and can remove a load of distress by the use of a 
few small phrases. Upon this occasion, however, an expression 
fell from one of the girl's kinsmen, which not only determined 
me against all interference, but made me hope that all attempts 
to recover the proselyte would fail ; this person, speaking with 
the most savage bitterness, and with the cordial approval of all 
the other relatives, said that the girl ought to be beaten to death. 
I could not fail to see that if the poor child were ever restored to 
her family, she would be treated with the most frightful bar- 
barity ; I heartily wished, therefore, that the Mussulmans might 
be firm, and preserve their young prize from any fate so dread- 
ful as that of a return to her own relations. 

The next day the Greek Priest returned from his mission to 
Aboo Goosh, but the " father of lies," it would seem, had been 
well plied with the gold of the enamored Sheik, and contrived 
to put off the prayers pf the Christian by cunning feints. Now, 
therefore, a second and more numerous deputation than the first 
waited upon me, and implored my intervention with the Gover- 
nor. I informed the assembled Christians that since their last 
application I had carefully considered the matter. The reli- 
gious question, I thought might be put aside at once, for the ex- 



CHAP. XXV.] 



MARIAM. 



209 



cessive levity which the girl had displayed proved clearly that, 
in adopting .Mahometanism, she was not quitting any other reli. 
gion ; her mind must have been thoroughly blank upon religious 
questions, and she was not, therefore, to be treated as a Chris« 
tian that had strayed from the flock, but rather as a child with- 
out any religion at all, who was willing to conform to the usages 
of those who would deck her with jewels, and clothe her with 
Cashmere shawls. 

So much for the religious part of the question. Well, then, 
in a merely temporal sense, it appeared to me that (looking 
merely to the interests of the damsel, for I rather unjustly put 
poor Menelaus quite out of the question), the advantages were 
all on the side of the Mahometan match. The Sheik was in a 
much higher station of life than the superseded husband, and had 
given the best possible proof of his ardent affection, by the sacri- 
fices which he had made, and the risks which he had incurred 
for the sake of the beloved object. I therefore stated fairly, to 
the horror and amazement of all my hearers, that the Sheik, in 
my view, was likely to make a most capital husband, and that I 
entirely ^'approved of the match." 

I left Nablous under the impression that Mariam would soon 
be delivered to her Mussulman lover ; I afterwards found, how- 
ever, that the result was very different. Dthemetri's religious 
zeal and hate had been so much excited by the account of these 
events, and by the grief and mortification of his co-religionists, 
that when he found me firmly determined to decline all interfer- 
ence in the matter, he secretly appealed to the Governor in my 
name and (using, I suppose, many violent threats, and telling, no 
doubt, many lies about my station and influence) extorted a 
promise that the proselyte should be restored to her relatives. I 
did not understand that the girl had been actually given up whilst 
I remained at Nablous, but Dthemetri certainly did not desist 
from his instances until he had satisfied himself by some means 
or other (for mere words amounted to nothing) that the promise 
would be actually performed. It was not till 1 had quitted Syria 
and when Dthemetri was no longer in my service, that this vil- 
lainous though well-motived trick of his came to my knowledge ; 
Mysseri, who informed me of the step which had been taken, did 
15 



210 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXV. 



not know it himself until some time after we had quitted Nablous, 
when Dthemetri exultingly confessed his successful enterprise. 
I know not whether the engagement which my zealous Dragoman 
extorted from the Governor was ever complied with. I shudder 
to think of the fate which must have befallen poor Mariam, if 
she fell into the hands of her husband. 



CHAP. XXVI. ] THE PROPHET DAMOOR. 



21J 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Prophet Damoor. 

For some hours I passed along the shores of the fair Lake of 
Galilee, and then turning a little to the westward, I struck into 
a mountainous country, the character of which became more 
bold and beautiful as I advanced. At length I drew near to 
Safet, which sits as proud as a fortress upon the summit of a 
craggy height, and yet because of its minarets, and stately 
trees, the place looks bright and beautiful. It is one of the holy 
cities of the Talmud, and according to this authority, the Mes- 
siah will reign there forty years before he takes possession of 
Sion. The sanctity thus attributed to the city renders it a favor- 
ite place of retirement for Israelites, of whom it contains four 
thousand, a number nearly balancing that of the Mahometan in- 
habitants. I knew by my experience of Tabarieh that a holy 
city" was sure to have a population of vermin somewhat pro- 
portionate to the number of its Israelites, and I therefore caused 
my tent to be pitched upon a green spot of ground at a respect- 
able distance from the walls of the town. 

When it had become quite dark (for there was no moon that 
night) I was informed that several Jews had secretly com.e from 
the city, in the hope of obtaining some assistance from me in 
circum.stances of imminent danger ; I was also informed that 
they claimed my aid upon the ground that some of their 
number were British subjects. It was arranged that the tv/o 
principal men of the party should speak for the rest, and these 
were accordingly admitted into my tent. One of the two called 
himself the British Vice-Consul, and he had with him his con- 
sular cap, but he frankly said that he could not have dared to 
assume this emblem of his dignity in the day time, and that 
nothing but the extreme darkness of the right rendered it safe 
for him to put it on upon this occasion. The other of the 



212 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXVI 



spokesmen was a Jew of Gibraltar, a tolerably well-bred per- 
son, who spoke English very fluently. 

These men informed me that the Jews of the place, who were 
exceedingly wealthy, had lived peaceably in their retirement 
until the insurrection which took place in 1834, but about the 
beginning of that year a highly religious Mussulman, called 
Mohammed Damoor, went forth into the market-place, crying 
with a loud voice, and prophesying, that on the fifteenth of the 
following June the true Believers would rise up in just wrath 
against the Jews, and despoil them of their gold, and their silver, 
and their jewels. The earnestness of the prophet produced 
some impression at the time, but all went on as usual, until at 
last the fifteenth of June arrived. When that day dawned, the 
whole Mussulman population of the place assembled in the 
streets, that they might see the result of the prophecy. Sud- 
denly Mohammed Damoor rushed furious into the crowd, and the 
fierce shout of the prophet soon ensured the fulfilment of his 
prophecy. Some of the Jews fled, and some remained, but they 
who fled, and they who remained, alike and unresistingly left 
their property to the hands of the spoilers. The most odious of 
all outrages, that of searching the women for the base purpose of 
discovering such things as gold and silver concealed about their 
persons, was perpetrated without shame. The poor Jews were 
so stricken with terror, that they submitted to their fate, even 
where resistance would have been easy. In several instances a 
young Mussulman boy, not more than ten or twelve years of 
age, walked straight into the house of a Jew, and stripped him 
of his property before his face, and in the presence of his whole 
family.* When the insurrection was put down, some of the 
Mussulmans (most probably those who had got no spoil where- 
with they might buy immunity) were punished, but the greater 
part of them escaped ; none of the booty was restored, and the 
pecuniary redreiss which the Pasha had undertaken to enforce 
for them, had been hitherto so carefully delayed, that the hope 
of ever obtaining it had grown very faint. A new Governor 

* It was after the interview which I am talking of, and not from the 
Jews themselves, that I learnt this fact. 



CHAP. XXVI,] 



THE PROPHET DAMOOR. 



213 



had been app< inted to the command of the place, with stringent 
orders to ascertain the real extent of the losses, and to discover 
the spoilers, with the view of compelling them to make restitu- 
tion. It was found that, notwithstanding the urgency of the in- 
structions which the Governor had received, he did not push on 
the affair with the vigor which had been expected ; the Jews 
complained, and either by the protection of the British Consul at 
Damascus, or by some other means, had influence enough to in- 
duce the appointment of a special Commissioner — they called 
him " the Modeer" — whose duty it was to watch for, and prevent 
anything like connivance on the part of the Governor* and to 
push on the investigation with vigor and impartiality. 

Such were the instructions with which some few weeks since 
the Modeer came fraught ; the result was that the investigation 
had made no practical advance, and that the Modeer, as well as 
the Governor, was living upon terms of affectionate friendship 
with Mohammed Damoor, and the rest of the principal spoilers. 

Thus stood the chances of redress for the past, but the cause 
of the agonizing excitement under which the Jews of the place 
now labored, was recent, and justly alarming ; Mohammed 
Damoor had again gone forth into the market-place, and lifted 
up his voice, and prophesied a second spoliation of the Israelites. 
This was grave matter ; the words of such a practical man as 
Mohammed Damoor were not to be despised. I fear I must 
have smiled visibly, for I was greatly amused, and even, I think, 
gratified at the account of this second prophecy. Nevertheless, 
my heart warmed towards the poor oppressed Israelites, and I 
was flattered too, in the point of my national vanity, at the no- 
tion of tie far-reaching link, by which a Jew in Syria, who 
had been born on the rock of Gibraltar, was able to claim me 
as his fellow-countryman. If I hesitated at all between the 

impropriety" of interfering in a matter which was no business 
of mine, and the horrid shame " of refusing my aid at such a 
conjuncture, I soon came to a very ungentlemanly decision — 
namely, that I would be guilty of the ^' impropriety," and not of 
the ''horrid shame." It seemed tome that the immediate ar- 
rest of Mohammed Damoor was the one thing needful to the 
safety of the Jews, and I felt confident (for reasons which I have 



21a 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXVI, 



already mentioned in speaking of the Nablous affair) that I 
should be able to obtain this result by making a formal appli- 
cation to the Governor. I told my applicants that I would take 
this step on the following morning ; they were very grateful, 
and were for a moment much pleased at the prospect of safety 
which might thus be opened to them, but the deliberation of a 
minute entirely altered their views, and filled them with new 
terror ; they declared, that any attempt, or pretended attempt on 
the part of the Governor to arrest Mohammed Damoor would 
certainly produce an immediate movement of the whole Mus- 
sulman population, and a consequent massacre and robbery of 
the Israelites. My visitors went out, and occupied considerable 
time, if I rightly remember, in consulting their brethren, but all 
agreed that their present perilous and painful position was better 
than the certain and immediate attack which would be made if 
Mohammed Damoor were seized — that their second estate would 
be worse than their first. I myself did not think that this would 
be the case, but I could not, of course, force my aid upon the 
people against their will, and moreover the day fixed for the 
fulfilment of this second prophecy was not very close at hand ; 
a little delay, therefore, in providing against the impending 
danger, would not necessarily be fatal. The men now confessed 
that although they had come with so much mystery, and as they 
thought, at so great a risk, to ask my assistance, they were 
unable to suggest any mode in which I could aid them, except, 
indeed, by mentioning their grievances to the Consul-general at 
Damascus. This I promised to do, and this I did. 

My visitors were very thankful to me for the readiness which 
I had shown to intermeddle in their afiairs, and the grateful 
wives of the principal Jews sent to me many compliments, with 
choice wines, and elaborate sweetmeats. 

The course of my travels soon drew me so far from Safet 
that I never heard how the dreadful day passed ofi* which had 
been fixed for the accomplishment of the second prophecy. If 
the predicted spoliation was prevented, poor Mohammed Damoor 
must have been forced, I suppose, to say that he had prophesied 
in a metaphorical sense. This would be a sad faLing ofi* from 
the brilliant and substantial success of the first experiment. 



CHAP. XXVII.] 



DAMASCUS. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

Damascus. 

For a part of two days I wound under the base of the snow- 
crowried Djibel el Sheik, and then entered upon a vast and deso- 
late plain, rarely pierced at intervals by some sort of withered 
stem. The earth in its length and its breadth, and all the deep 
universe of sky, was steeped in light and heat. On I rode 
through the fire, but long before evening came, there were strain- 
ing eyes that saw and joyful voices that announced the sight — of 
Shaum Shereef — the "Holy," the "Blessed" Damascus. 

But that which at last I reached with my longing eyes, was 
not a speck in the horizon, gradually expanding to a group of 
roofs and walls, but a long, low line of blackest green that ran 
right across^ in the distance from East to West. And this, as I 
approached, grew deeper — grew wavy in its outline ; soon for- 
est trees shot up before my eyes and robed their broad shoulders 
so freshly that all the throngs of olives as they rose into view 
looked sad in their proper dimness. There were even now no 
houses to see, but only the minarets peered out from the midst 
of shade into the glowing sky and bravely touched the Sun. 
There seemed to be here no mere city, but rather a province, 
wide and rich, that bounded the torrid waste. 

Until within a year or two of the time at which I went there, 
Damascus had kept up' so much of the old bigot zeal, against 
Christians, or rather against Europeans, that no one dressed as 
a Frank could have dared to show himself in the streets ; but 
the firmness and temper of Mr. Farren, who hoisted his flag in 
the city as Consul-general for the district, had soon put an end 
to all intolerance of Englishmen. Damascus was safer than 
Oxford.* When I entered the city, in my usual dress, there 

* An enterprising American traveller, Mr. Everett, lately conceived the 



216 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXVII 



was but one poor fellow that wagged his tongue, and him, in the 
open streets, Dthemetri horse-whipped. During my stay I went 
wherever I chose, and attended the public baths without molesta- 
tion. Indeed my relations with the pleasanter portion of the 
Mahometan population were upon a much better footing here 
than at most other places. 

In the principal streets of Damascus there is a path for foot 
passengers, wMch is raised, I think, a foot or two above the 
bridle road. Until the arrival of the British Consul-oreneral. 
none but a Mussulman had been permitted to walk upon the 
upper way ; Mr. Farren would not, of course, suffer that the 
humiliation of any such exclusion should be submitted to by an 
Englishman, and I always walked upon the raised path as free 
and unmolested as if I had been striding through Bond Street ; 
the old usage was, however, maintained with as much strictness 
as ever against the Christian Rayahs and Jews ; not one of 
them could have set his foot upon the privileged path without 
endangering his life. 

I was lounging one day, I remember, along " the paths of the 
faithful," when a Christian Rayah from the bridle-road below 
saluted me with such earnestness, and craved so anxiously to 
speak, and be spoken to, that he soon brought me to a halt ; hp 
had nothing to tell, except only the glory and exultation with 
which he saw a fellow Christian stand level with the imperious 
Mussulmans ; perhaps he had been absent from the place for 
some time, for otherwise I hardly know how it could have hap 
pened that my exaltation was the first instance he had seen. His 
joy was great ; so strong and strenuous was England (Lord 
Palmerston reigned in those days) that it was a pride and de- 

bold project of penetrating to the University of Oxford, and this, notwith- 
standing that he had been in his infancy (they begin very young those 
Americans) an Unitarian preacher. Having a notion, it seems, that the 
Ambassadorial character would protect him from insult, he adopted the 
stratagem of procuring credentials from his government as Minister Pleni- 
potentiary at the Court of her Britannic Majesty ; he also wore the exact 
costume of a Trinitarian, but all his contrivances were vain ; Oxfcard dis- 
dained and rejected him (not because he represented a swincilirig community,, 
but) because that his infantine sermons-i were strictly remembered agaiUfit 
him ; the enterprise failed. 



CHAP. XXVil.] 



DAMASCUS. 



217 



light for a Syrian Christian to look up, and say that the Eng- 
lishman's faith was his too ; if I was vexed at all that I could 
not give the man a lift, and shake hands with him on level 
ground, there was no alloy to his pleasure ; he followed me on, 
not looking to his own path, but keeping his eyes on me ; he saw, 
as he thought and said (for he came with me on to my quar- 
ters) the period of the Mahometan's absolute ascendency — the 
beginning of the Christian's. He had so closely associated 
the insulting privilege of the path with actual dominion, that see- 
ing it now in one instance abandoned, he looked for the quick 
coming of European troops. His lips only whispered, and that 
tremulously, but his fiery eyes spoke out their triumph in long 
and loud hurrahs! I, too, am a Christian. My foes are the 
foes of the English. We are all one people, and Christ is our 
King." 

If I poorly deserved, yet I liked this claim of brotherhood. 
Not all the warnings which I heard against their rascality could 
hinder me from feeling kindly towards my fellow-Christians in 
,the East. English travellers, from a habit perhaps of depre- 
ciating sectarians in their own country, are apt to look down 
upon the Oriental Christians as being dissenters" from the 
established religion of a Mahometan Empire. I never did 
thus. By a natural perversity of disposition, which my nurse- 
maids called contrazriness, I felt the more strongly for my creed 
when I saw it despised among men. I quite tolerated the 
Christianity of Mahometan countries, notwithstanding its humble 
aspect, and the damaged character of its follower^ ; I went 
further, and extended some sympathy towards those who, with 
all the claims of superior intellect, learning, and industry, were 
kept down under the heel of the Mussulmans by reason of their 
having our faith. I heard, as I fancied, the faint echo of an old 
Crusader's conscience, that whispered, and said, Common 
cause!" The impulse was, as you may suppose, much too 
feeble to bring me into trouble— it merely influenced my actions 
in a way thoroughly characteristic of this poor sluggish cen- 
tury — that is, by making me speak almost as civilly to the 
followers of Christ as I did to their Mahometan foes. 

This <'Holy" Damascus, this ''e^nhly paradise" of the Pro- 



218 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. xx-\ii 



phetj no fair to the eyes, that he dared not trust himself to tarr) 
ill her blissful shades, she is a city of hidden palaces, of copses, 
and gardens, and fountains, and bubbling streams. The juice 
of her life is the gushing and ice-cold torrent that tumbles from 
the snowy sides of Anti-Lebanon. Close along on the river's 
edge through seven sweet miles of rustling boughs, and deepest 
shade, the city spreads out her whole length ; as a man falls 
flat, face forward on the brook, that he may drink, and drink 
again, so Damascus, thirsting for ever, lies down with her lips 
to the stream, and clings to its rushing waters. 

The chief places of public amusement, or rather, of public 
relaxation, are the baths, and the great cafe ; this last, which 
is frequented at night by most of the wealthy men, and by many 
of the humbler sort, consists of a number of sheds very simply 
framed, and built in a labyrinth of running streams, which foam 
and roar on every side. The place is lit up in the simplest man- 
ner by numbers of small, pale lamps, strung upon loose cords, 
and so suspended branch to branch, that the light, though it looks 
so quiet amongst the darkening foliage, yet leaps and brightly 
flashes, as it falls upon the troubled wate'^s. All around, and 
chiefly upon the very edge of the torrents, groups of people are 
tranquilly seated. They all drink cotfee, and inhale the cold 
fumes of the narguile ; they talk rather gently the one to the 
other, or else are silent. A father will sometimes have two or 
three of liis boys around him, but ,the joyousness of an Oriental 
child is all of the sober sort, and never disturbs the reigning 
calm of the land. 

a has been generally understood, I believe, that the houses of 
Damascus are more sumptuous than those of any other city in the 
East. Some of these — said to be the most magnificent in the 
place — I had an opportunity of seeing. 

Every rich man's' house stands detached from its neighbors, 
at the side of a garden, and it is from this cause, no doubt, that 
the cit}^ has hitherto escaped destruction. You know some parts 
-of Spaio, but you have never, I think, been in Andalusia ; if you 
had, I could easily show you the interior of a Damascene house^ 
by referring you to the Alhambra, or Alcanzar of Seville. The 
lofty rooms az^e adorned with a rich inlaying of many colors, and 



CUh-T. XX\ II.] 



DAMASCUS. 



2VJ 



illuminated writing on the walls. The floors are of marblev 
One side of any room intended for noon-day retirement is gene- 
rally laid open to a quadrangle, in the centre of which there 
dances the jet of a fountain. There is no furniture that can in- 
terfere with the cool, palace-like emptiness of the apartments. 
A div^an (which is a low and doubly broad sofa) runs round the 
three walled sides of the room ; a few Pe^-sian carpets (which 
ought to be called Persian rugs, for that is the word Vv^hich indi- 
cates their shape and dimension), are sometimes thrown about 
near the divan ; they are placed without order, the one partly 
lapping over the other, and thus disposed, they give to the room 
an appearance of uncaring luxury ; except these (of which I saw 
few, for the time was summer and fiercely hot), there is nothing 
to obstruct the welcome air, and the whole of the marble floor 
from one divan to the other, and from, the head of the chamber 
across to the murmuring fountain, is thoroughly open and free. 

So simple as this is Asiatic luxury ! — The Oriental is not a 
contriving animal — there is nothing intricate in his magnificence. 
The impossibility of handing down property from father to son, 
for any long period consecutively, seems to prevent the existence 
of those traditions by which, with us, the refined modes of apply- 
ing; wealth are made known to its inheritors. We know that in 
England a newly-made rich man cannot, by taking thought and 
spending money, obtain even the same-looking furniture as a 
Gentleman. The complicated character of an English estab- 
lishment allov^^s room for subtle distinctions betVv^een that which 
is comme ilfaut and that v/hich is not. All such refinements are 
unknown in the East — the Pasha and the peasant have the same 
tastes. The broad, cold marble floor— the simple couch— the air 
freshly waving through a shady chamber — a verse of the Koran 
emblazoned on the walls — the sight and the sound of falling 
water— the cold, fragrant smoke of the narguile, and a small 
collection of wives and children in the inner apartments— all 
these, the utmost enjoyments of the grandee, are yet such as to 
be appreciable by the humblest Mussulman in the empire. 

But its gardens are the delight — the delight and the pride of 
Damascus ; they ar3 not the formal parterres which you might 
expect from the Oriental taste ; they rather bring back to your 



220 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXVII 



mind the memory of some dark old shrubbery in our northern 
isle, that has been charmingly " un-kept up" for many and 
many a day. When you see a rich wilderness of wood in decent 
England, it is like enough that you see it with some soft regrets. 
The puzzled old woman at the lodge can give small account of 
The family." She thinks it is Italy" that has made the 
whole circle of her world so gloomy and sad. You avoid the 
house in lively dread of a lone housekeeper, but you make your 
way on by the stables ; you remember that gable with all its 
neatly nailed trophies of fitches, and hawks, and owls, now 
slowly falling to pieces — you remember that stable, and that, but 
the doors are all fastened that used to be standing ajar — the 
paint of things painted is blistered and cracked — grass grows in 
the yard — just there, in October mornings, the keeper would 
wait with the dogs and the guns — no keeper now — you hurry 
aw^ay, and gain the small wicket that used to open to the touch 
of a lightsome hand^ — it is fastened with a padlock (the only new- 
looking thing), and is stained with thick, green damp — you climb 
it, and bury yourself in the deep shade, and strive but lazily 
with the tangling briars, and stop for long minutes to judge and 
deterinine whether you will creep beneath the long boughs, and 
make them your archway, or whether perhaps you wil lift your 
heel, and tread them down under foot. Long doubt, and scarcely 
to be ended, till you wake from the memory of those days when 
the path was clear, and chase that phantom of a muslin sleeve 
that once weighed warm upon your arm. 

Wild as that the nighest woodland of a deserted home in Eng- 
land, but without its sweet sadness, is the sumptuous garden of 
Damascus. Forest trees, tall and stately enough if you could 
see their lofty crests, yet lead a tustling life of it below with 
their branches struggling against strong num.bers of bushes 
and wilful shrubs. 'The shade upon the earth is black as night. 
High, high above your head and on every side all down to the 
ground, the thicket is hemmed in and choked up by the inter- 
lacing boughs that droop with the weight of roses, and load the 
slow air with their damask breath.* There are no other flow^ 

* The rose trees which I saw were all of the kind we call ** damask 
they grow to an immense height and size 



CHAP. XXVII.] 



DAMASCUS. 



221 



ers. Here and there, there are patches of ground made clear 
from the cover, and these are either carelessly planted with 
some common and useful vegetable, or else are left free to the 
wayward ways of Nature, and bear rank weeds, moist-looking 
and cool to your eyes, and freshening the sense with their 
earthy and bitter fragrance. There is a lane opened through 
the thicket so broad in some places that you can pass along side 
by side — in some so narrow (the shrubs are for ever encroach- 
ing) that you ought, if you can, to go on the first and hold back 
the bough of the rose tree. And through this wilderness there 
tumbles a loud rushing stream which is halted at last in the 
lowest corner of the garden, and there tossed up in a fountain by 
the side of the simple alcove. This is all. 

Never for an instant will the people of Damascus attempt to 
separate the idea of bliss from these v/ild gardens and rushing 
waters. Even where your best affections are concerned, and 
you — prudent preachers hold hard," and turn aside when 
they come near the mysteries of the happy state, and we (j u- 
dent preachers too), we will hush our voices and never rev .al 
to finite beings the joys of the " Earthly Paradise." 



E 3THEN, 



[chap. XXVIII. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Pass of the Lebanon. 

The ruins of Baalbec !" Shall I scatter the vague, solemn 
thoughts and all the airy phantasies which gather together when 
once those words are spoken, that I may give you instead tall 
columns, and measurements true, and phrases built with ink ? — 
No, no ; the glorious sounds shall still float on as of yore, and 
still hold fast upon your brain with their own dim and infinite 
meaning. 

Come ! Baalbec is over ; I got rather well" out of that. 

The pass by which I crossed the Lebanon is like, I think, in 
its features to one which you must know, namely, that of the 
Foorca in the Bernese Oberland. For a great part of the way I 
toiled rather painfully through the dazzling snow, but the labor 
of ascending added to the excitement with which I looked for 
the summit of the pass. The time came. There was a minute 
in the which I saw nothing but the steep white shoulder of the 
mountain, and there was another minute, and that the next, 
which showed me a nether Heaven of fleecy clouds that floated 
along far down in the air beneath me, and showed me beyond 
the breadth of all Syria west of the Lebanon. But chiefly I 
clung with my eyes to the dim steadfast line of the sea which 
closed my utmost view ; I had grown well used of late to the 
people and the scenes of forlorn Asia — well used to tombs and 
ruins, to silent cities' and deserted plains, to tranquil m.en and 
women sadly veiled ; and now that I saw the even plain of the 
sea, I leapt with an easy leap to its yonder shores, and saw all 
the kingdoms of the \N est in that fair path that could lead me 
from out of this silent land straight on into shrill Marseilles, or 
round by the pillars of Hercules, to the crash and roar of Lon- 
don. My place u'>on this dividing barrier was as a man's 



CHAP. XXVIU.] 



PASS OF THE LEBANON. 



223 



puzzling station in eternity, between the birlhless Past and the 
Future that has no end. Behind me I left an old decrepid World 
— Religions dead and d3/ing — calm tyrannies expiring in silence 
■ — women hushed and swathed, and turned into waxen dolls — 
Love flown, and in its stead mere Royal and Paradise" plea- 
sures. — Before me there waited glad bustle and strife, — Love 
itself, an emulous game, — Religion a Cause and a Controversy, 
well smitten and well defended, — -men governed by reasons and 
suasion of speech, — wheels going, — steam buzzing, — a mortal 
race and a slashing pace, and the Devil taking the hindmiost, — 
taking ine^ by Jove (for that was my inner care), if I lingered 
too long upon the difficult Pass that leads from* Thought to 
Action. 

I descended, and went towards the West. 

The group of Cedars, remaining on this part of the Lebanon, 
is held Sacred by the Greek Church, on account of a prevailing 
notion that the trees wei^e standing at the time when the Temple 
of Jerusalem was built. They occupy three or four acres on 
the mountain's side, and many of them are gnarled in a way 
that implies great age, but except these signs I saw nothing in 
their appearance or conduct that tended to prove them contem- 
poraries of the cedars employed in Solomon's Temple. The 
final cause to which these aged survivors owed their preserva- 
tion, was explained to me in the evening by a glorious old fel- 
low (a Christian Chief), who made me welcome in the valley 
of Eden. In ancient times, the whole range of the Lebanon 
had been covered with cedars, but as the fertile plains beneath 
became more and more infested with Government officers and 
tyrants of high and low degree, the people by degrees aban- 
doned them, and flocked to the rugged mountains which w^ere 
less accessible to their insolent oppressors. The cedar forests 
gradually shrank under the axe of the encroaching nrultitudes, 
and seemed at last to be on the point of disappearing entirely, 
v/hen an aged Chief v/ho ruled in this district, and who had 
witnessed the great change effected even in his own life-time, 
chose to say that som.e sign or memorial should be left of the 
vast woods with which 'he mountains had formerly been clad, 
and commanded accordingly that this group of trees (which was 



224 



EOTHEN, 



[chap, xxvm 



probably situate at the highest point to which the forest had 
reached) should remain untouched. The Chief, it seems, was 
not moved by the notion I have mentioned as prevailing in the 
Greek Church, but rather by some sentiment of veneration for 
a great natural feature, — -a sentiment akin, perhaps, to that old 
and earthborn Religion, which made men bow down to Creation 
before they had yet learnt how to know and worship the Creator. 

The Chief of the valley in which I passed the night was a 
man of large possessions, and he entertained me very sumptu- 
ously ; he was highly intelligent, and had had the sagacity to 
foresee that Europe would intervene authoritatively in the affairs 
of Syria. Bearing this idea in mind, and with a view to give 
his son an advantageous start in the ambitious career for which 
he was destined, he had hired for him a teacher of the Italian 
language, the only accessible European tongue. The tutor, 
however, who was a native of Syria, either did not know, or did 
not choose to teach the European forms of address, but contented 
himself with instructing his pupil in the mere language of Italy. 
This circumstance gave me an opportunity (the only one I ever 
had, or was likely to have),* of hearing the phrases of Oriental 
courtesy in an European tongue. The boy was about twelve 
or thirteen years old, and having the advantage of being able to 
speak to me without the aid of an interpreter, he took a very 
prominent part in doing the honors of his father's house. He 
went through his duties with untiring assiduity, and with a kind 
of gracefulness which can scarcely be conveyed by mere de- 
scription to those who are unacquainted with the manners of the 
Asiatics. The boy's address resembled a little that of a highly 
polished and insinuating Roman Catholic Priest, but had more 
of girlish gentleness. It was strange to hear him gravely and 
slowly enunciating the common and extravagant compliments 
of the East in good Italian, and in soft, persuasive tones ; I 
recollect that I was pa-ticularly amused at the gracious obsti- 
nacy with which he maintained that the house in which I was 
so hospitably entertained, belonged not to his father, but to me ; 
to say this once, was only to use the common form of speech, 

* A Dragoman never interprets in terms the courteous language of the 
East. 



CHAP. XXVIII.] PASS OF THE LEBANON. 



225 



signifying no more than our sweet word welcome," but the 
amusing part of the matter was that, whenever in the course of 
conversation I happened to speak of his father's house or the 
surrounding domain, the boy invariably interfered to correct my 
pretended mistake, and to assure me once again with a gentle 
decisiveness of manner that the whole property was really and 
exclusively mine, and that his father had not the most distant 
pretensions to its ownership. 

I received from my host much and (as I now know) most true 
information respecting the people of the mountains, and their 
power of resisting Mehemet Ali. The Chief gave me very 
plainly to imderstand that the Mountaineers being dependent 
upon others for bread and gunpowder (the two great necessaries 
of martial life), could not long hold out against a power which 
occupied the plains and commanded the sea, but he also assured 
me, and that very significantly, that if this source of weakness 
were provided against, the mountaineers were to he depended upon ; 
he told me that in ten or fifteen days the Chiefs could bring 
, together some fifty thousand fighting men. 



226 



EOTHEN. 



CHAP. XXIX. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

Surprise of Satalieh. 

Whilst I was remaining upon the coast of Syria, I had the 
good fortune to become acquainted with the Russian Saialiefsky,* 
a General Officer, who, in his youth, had fought and bled at 
Borodino, but was now better known among Diplomats by the 
important trust committed to him at a period highly critical for 
the affairs of Eastern Europe ; I must not tell you his family 
name ; my m.ention of his title can do him no harm, for it is L 
and I only, who have conferred it in consideration of the mili- 
tary and diplomatic services performed under my own eyes. 

The General as well as I was bound for Smyrna, and we 
agreed to sail together in an Ionian Brigantine. We did not 
charter the vessel, but Vv^e made our arrangement v/ith the 
captain upon such terms that we could be put ashore upon any 
part of the coast which we might think proper. We sailed, and 
day after day the vessel lay dawdling on the sea with calms and 
feeble breezes for her portion. I jpyself was well repaid for 
the painful restlessness which such weather occasions, because 
I gained from my companion a little of that vast fund of inte- 
resting knowledge with which he was stored — knowledge, a 
thousand times the more highly to be prized, since it was not of 
the sort that is to be gathered from books, but only from the lips 
of those who have acted a part in the world. 

When after nine days of sailing, or trying to sail, we found 
ourselves still hanging by the mainland to the north of the Isle 
of Cyprus, we determined to disembark at Satalieh and to proceed 
from thence by land. A light breeze favored our purpose, and 
it was with great delight that we neared the fragrant land, and 

* A title signifying Transcender or Conqueror of Satalieh. 



CHAP. XXIX.] SURPRISE OF SATALIEH. 



221 



saw our anchor go down in the bay of Satalieh, within two or 
three hundred yards of the shore. 

The town of Satalieh'^ is the chief place of the Pashalik in 
which it is situate, and its citadel is the residence of the Pasha. 
We had scarcely dropped our anchor when a boat from the 
shore came alongside, with officers on board, who announced 
that the strictest orders had been received for maintaining a qua- 
rantine of three v/eeks against all vessels coming from Syria, 
and directed accordingly that no one from the vessel should dis- 
embark. In reply we sent a message to the Pasha, setting forth 
the rank and titles of the General, and requiring permission to 
go ashore. After a while the boat came again alongside, and the 
officers declaring that the orders received from Constantinople 
were imperative and unexceptional, formally enjoined us in the 
name of the Pasha to abstain from any attempt to land. 

I had been hitherto much less impatient of our slow voyage 
than m.y gallant friend, but this opposition made the smooth sea 
seem to me like a prison from which I must and would break 
out. I had an unbounded faith in the feebleness of Asiatic Po- 
tentates, and I proposed that we should set the Pasha at defiance. 
The General had been worked up to a state of the most painful 
agitation by the idea of being driven from the shore which smiled 
so pleasantly before his eyes, and he adopted my suggestion with 
rapture. 

We determined to land. 

To approach the sweet shore after a tedious voyage, and then 
to be suddenly and unexpectedly prohibited from landing,- — this 
is so maddening to the temper that no one who had ever experi- 
enced the trial would say that e\ en the most violent impatience 
of such restraint is v/holly inexcusable. I amx not going to pre- 
tend, however, that the course which we chose to adopt on this 
occasion can be perfectly justifie<l. The impropriety of a tra- 
veller's setting at naught the regulations of a foreign state is 
clear enough, and the bad taste of compassing such a purpose 
by mere gasconading, is still more glaringly plain. I knew 
perfectly well that if the Pasha understood his duty, and had 



" Spelt **Attalia" and sometimes "Adalia" in English books and maps 



228 



EOT HEN 



[chap, XXIX. 



energy enough to perform it, he would order out a file of soldiers 
the moment we landed, and cause us both to be shot upon the 
beach, without allowing more contact than might be absolutely 
necessary for the purpose of making us stand fire, but I also 
firmly believed that the Pasha would not see the line of conduct 
which he ought to adopt nearly so well as I did, and that even 
if he did know his duty he would never be able to find resolu- 
tion enough to perform it. 

We ordered the boat to be got in readiness, and the officers on 
shore seeing these preparations, gathered together a number of 
guards who assembled upon the sands ; we saw that great ex- 
citement prevailed, and that messengers were continually going 
to and fro between the shore and the citadel. Our Captain, out 
of compliment to his Excellency, had provided the vessel with a 
Russian war-flag, which he had hoisted alternately with the 
Union Jack, and we agreed that we would attempt our disem- 
barkation under this, the Russian standard ; 1 was glad when 
we came to that resolution, for I should have been very sorry to 
engage the honored flag of England in such an affair as that 
which we were undertaking. The Russian ensign was there™ 
fore committed to one of the sailors, who took his station at the 
stern of the boat. We gave particular instructions to the Cap- 
tain of the Brigantine, and when all was ready, the General and 
I with our respective servants got into the boat, and were 
slowly rowed towards the shore. The guards gathered together 
at the point for which we were making, but when they saw that 
our boat went on without altering her course, they ceaseA to stand 
very still ; none of them ran away or even shrank back, but 
they looked as if the pack were being shuffled, every man seem- 
ing desirous to change places with his neighbor. They were 
still at their post however when our oars went in, and the bow 
of our boat ran up— well up upon the beach. 

The General was lame by an honorable wound which he had 
gained at Borodino, and required some assistance in getting out 
of the boat ; I, therefore, landed the first. My instructions to 
the Captain were attended to with the most perfect accuracy, for 
scarcely had my foot indented the sand, when the four six- 
pounders of the Brigantine sublimely rolled out their brute 



CHAP. XXIX.] SURPRISE OF SATALIEH. 229 



thunder. Precisely as I had expected, the guards, and all the 
people who had gathered ahout them, gave way under the shock 
produced by the mere sound of guns, and we were all allowed 
to disembark without the least molestation. 

We immediately formed a little column, or rather, as I should 
have called it, a procession, for we had no fighting aptitude in 
us, and were only trying, as it were, how far we could go in 
frightening full-grown children. First marched the sailor with 
the Russian flag of war bravely flying in the breeze ; then came 
the General and I ; then our servants, and lastly, if I rightly 
recollect, two more of the Brigantine's crew. Our flag-bearer 
entered into the spirit of the enterprise, and bore the standard 
aloft with so much of pomp and dignity, that I found it exceedingly 
hard to keep a grave countenance. We advanced towards the 
castle, but the people had now had time to recover from the 
effect of the six-pounders (which were only, of course, loaded 
with powder), and they could not help seeing, not only the weak- 
ness of our party, but the very slight amount of pomp and power 
which it seemed to imply ; they began to hang around us more 
closely, and just as this reaction was beginning, the General, 
who was perfectly unacquainted with the Asiatic character, 
thoughtlessly turned round in order to speak to one of the ser- 
vants ; the effect of this slight move was magical ; the people 
thought we were going to give way, and instantly closed round 
us. In two words, and with one touch, I showed my comrade 
the danger he was running, and in the next instant we were 
both advancing more pompously than ever. Some minutes 
afterv/ards there was a second appearance of reaction, followed 
again by wavering and indecision on the part of the Pasha's 
people, but at length it seemed to be understood that we should 
go unmolested into the audience hall. 

Constant communication had been going on between the re- 
ceding crowd and the Pasha, and so when we reached the gates 
of the citadel we saw that preparations were made for giving 
us an awe-striking reception. Parting at once from the sailors 
and our servants, the General and I were conducted into the 
audience hall ; and there a: least I suppose the Pasha hoped 
that he would confound us by his greatness. The hall vv'as 



230 



EOTHEN. 



[chap. XXIX 



nothing more than a large white-washed room ; Orieatal poten- 
tates have a pride in that sort of simplicity when they can 
contrast it with the exhibition of powe: , and this the Pasha was 
able to do, for the lower end of the hall was filled w^ith his offi- 
cers : these men, of Vv^hom I thought there were about fifty or 
sixty, were all handsomely though plainly dressed in the mili- 
tary frock-coats of Europe; they stood in mass and so as to 
present a hollow, semicircular front towards the upper end of 
the hall at which the Pasha sat ; they opened a narrow lane for 
us when we entered, and as soon as we had passed they again 
closed up their ranks. An attempt was made to induce us to 
remain at a respectful distance from his Mightiness ; to have 
yielded in this point would have been fatal to our success, — per- 
haps to our lives ; but the General and I had already determined 
upon the place which we should take, and we rudely pushed on 
towards the upper end of the hall. 

Upon the divan and close up against the right hand corner of 
the room there sat the Pasha — his limbs gathered in — the whole 
creature coiled up like an adder. His cheeks were deadly pale, 
and his lips perhaps had turned white, for without moving a muscle 
the man impressed me with an immense idea of wrath within him. 
Pie kept his eyes inexorably fixed, as if upon vacancy, and v/ith 
the look of a man accustomed to refuse the prayers of those 
who sue for life. We soon discomposed him, how^ever, from 
this studied fixity of feature, for we marched straight up to the 
divan and sat down, the Russian close to the Pasha, and I by 
the side of the Russian. This act astonished the attendants and 
plainly disconcerted the Pasha ; he could no longer maintain 
the glassy stillness of the eyes which he had affected, and evi- 
dently became much agiiated. At the feet of the Satrap there 
stood a trembling Italian ; this man was a sort of medico in the 
potentate's service, and now, in the absence of our attendants, 
he was to act as interpreter. The Pasha caused him to tell us 
that we had openly defied his authority, and had forced our way 
upon shore in the teeth of his own officers. 

Up to this time I had been the planner of the enterprise, but 
now that the mom.ent had come when all w^ould depend upon able 
and earnest speechifying, I felt at once the immense superiority 



CHAP. XXIX.l 



SURPRISE OF SATALIEH. 



231 



of my gallant friend, and gladly left to him the whole conduct 
of the discussion ; indeed he had vast advantages over me, not 
only by his superior command of language, and his far more 
spirited style of address, but also in his consciousness of a good 
cause, for whilst I felt myself completely in the wrong, his 
Excellency had really worked himself up to believe that the 
Pasha's refusal to permit our landing was a gross outrage and 
insult. Therefore, without deigning to defend our conduct, he 
at once commenced a spirited attack upon the Pasha. The poor 
Italian Doctor translated one or two sentences to the Pasha, but 
lie evidently mitigated their import ; the Pvussian, grovring warm, 
insisted upon his attack v/ith redoubled energy and spirit ; but 
the medico, instead of translating, began to shake violently with 
terror, and at last he came out with his - non ardisco,*' and 
fairly confessed that he dared not interpret fi.erce words to his 
master. 

Now then, at a time when everything seemed to depend upon 
the effect of speech, we were left without an interpreter. 
, But this very circumstance, which at first appeared so un 
favorable, turned out to be advantageous. The General, finding 
that he could not have his v/ords translated, ceased to speak in 
Italian, and recurred to his accustomed French ; he became 
eloquent ; no one present, except myself, understood one syllable 
of what he was saying, but he had drawn forth his passport, and 
the energy and violence with v/hich, as he spoke, he pointed to 
the graven Eagle of Prussia, began to make an impression ; the 
Pasha sav/ at his side a man, who not only seemed to be entirely 
without fear, but to be raging with just indignation, and thence- 
forward he plainly began to think that in some v/a^/ or other (he 
could not tell how), he must certainly have been in the wrong. 
Irra little time he v/as so much shaken, that the Italian ventured 
to resume his interpretation, and my com.rade had again the op- 
portunity of pressing his attack upon the Pasha ; his argument, 
if I rightly recollect its import, was to this effect — If the vilest 
Jews were to com.e into the harbor, you would but forbid them 
to land, and force them to perform quarantine, yet this is the 
very course, O Pasha, which your rash ofiicers dared to think of 
adopting w^uh us ! — those mad and reckless men vrould have 



232 



EOTHEN. 



fCHAP XXIX 



actually dealt towards a Russian General Officer and an Eng 
lish Gentleman as if they had been wretched Israelites ! Never, 
never, will we submit to such an indignity. His Imperial 
Majesty knows how to protect his nobles from insult, and would 
never endure that a General of his army should be treated in 
matter of quarantine, as though he were a mere Eastern Jew !" 
This argument told with great effect ; the Pasha fairly admitted 
that he felt its weight, and he now only struggled to obtain a 
compromise, which might seem to save his dignity ; he M^anted 
us to perform a quarantine of one day for form's sake, and in 
order to show his people that he was not utterly defied, but 
finding that we were inexorable, he not only abandoned his 
attempt, but promised to supply us with horses. 

When the discussion had arrived at this happy conclusion, 
tchibouques and coffee were brought, and we passed, I think, 
nearly an hour in friendly conversation. The Pasha, it now ap- 
peared, had once been a prisoner of war in Russia, and the con- 
viction of the Emperor's power, which he must have acquired 
during his captivity, probably rendered him more alive than an 
untravelled Turk would have been to the force of my comrade's 
eloquence. 

he Pasha now gave us a generous feast ; our promised hor- 
ses were brought without much delay ; 1 gained my loved saddle 
once more, and when the moon got up and touched the heights 
of Taurus, we were joyfully winding our way through one of 
his rugged defil 3S, 



TE£ END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii* 

019 895 876 1 



